Old Ghosts
by vorr de ville
Summary: When flight K47 crash-landed on the runway at Fort Menzies it made a hero out of Henry Sullivan. He never wanted the label, and it appears that there are still those who don't think he deserved it.
1. Chapter 1

The metal was twisted and shredded as though it was little more than paper. As the powerful beams of the searchlights swept across the wreckage, the full nature of the situation became apparent. Henry Sullivan's palms were slick with sweat, and his heart was pounding against his ribcage as he sprinted in the direction of the stricken aircraft. He'd not seen its awkward lurch onto the runway, but he'd heard the shrieking of metal against metal, and smelt the burning of rubber as he'd gunned the engine of his own car, trying desperately to get to the downed plane, and its occupants.

All around him in the pitch black there was shouting and frantic activity as others sought to take charge of the situation. Their voices were muffled, incoherent sounds to his ears, and he concentrated only on the task that he'd set himself. His colleagues were in that plane; the men that he'd worked and lived with for the past few years. He was not going to let them down; he was not going to let them die.

The aircraft was closer now; he could see the tear in the belly of the plane where the undercarriage hadn't deployed fully. Ignoring the protests from his aching muscles, he pushed on further. He was going to get to them; he was not going to let them die. He felt the baked tarmac beneath his feet as he fought to close the gap between himself and the plane. Smoke caught in the back of his throat and he fought against the cough that started to build. He was going to get there; he was going to save his friends…

Henry Sullivan awoke with a start; his face damp with perspiration. For a few moments he was completely disorientated; almost believing that he could still smell the acrid black smoke in his nostrils, and taste the burning metal in the air.

After a few seconds, reality came flooding relentlessly back in. He was in bed, in his apartment, and he was having the same nightmare again. He turned onto his side and stared at the luminous hands of his alarm clock. It was a little after three in the morning. It hadn't been the nightmare that had awoken him this time; the jangling of the telephone was accompanied by an occasional, hesitant, bark from Missy, who showed her disapproval of the night-time intrusion into her sleep.

Wearily, Henry pushed back the bedclothes and stumbled onto the bedroom floor, heading in the direction of the ringing phone. He exited his bedroom and entered the narrow hallway. The phone continued with its ring, shattering the stillness of the early morning. His feet felt cold upon the wooden floor as he made his way towards the machine. Missy was at his side in seconds, her paws skittering on the wooden floorboards as she pressed her cold nose into his hand, looking for some reassurance.

"…Hello," he lifted the receiver, ignoring the slight whimper of frustration from the black Labrador at his side. There was no reply from the other end, but he knew that there was someone on the line. He knew that there was always someone there; even though they never spoke. "Hello?" he called out again, but his words were met with nothing but silence. He stood in the hallway; perspiration still dripping from his face, wondering just what he had done in life to deserve this.

* * *

There were mornings where Kelly Garrett had cause to question the decision she had made in agreeing to work for Charlie Townsend. Some mornings were designed to be spent being pampered in a spa with a good friend along for company; with nothing more pressing than deciding where to go for dinner in the evening. This was one of those mornings; the spa had been booked, the meet up with the friend arranged. A call from Bosley at seven in the morning had, however, sent all those plans crashing to the floor and explained was why she was currently sat in the well-furnished office of Townsend Investigations with a less than happy look upon her face.

Her two companions were also looking distinctly less than amused. Sabrina had already made a pointed remark about how she was supposed to be on vacation, whilst Kris had bemoaned the loss of the day on the beach. What they all agreed upon however was the fact that a beautiful Saturday morning was one that should not be wasted by being sat in an office – however well air-conditioned it might be.

On the receiving end of all the pointed comments and dirty looks was John Bosley. He rode it all with a calm air; he knew that it was pointless to try and remind them of the contracts they had all signed, and the fact that Charlie was well within his rights to call them all in at any time that he chose. He understood fully the frustration that came with having to work unpredictable hours. There were in fact a set of golf clubs in the back of his car that were not going to see the gentle slopes of the local course for another day or so. As usual though, he kept his mouth shut and let the angels get their own grievances off their chests.

As was common, the complaints subsided after only a few minutes and Bosley decided that it was safe to proceed with a few details about the case that Charlie had agreed to take on.

He glanced briefly at his watch before beginning.

"In a few moments we should be joined by General Peter Warner. He has a matter that he'd like us to handle."

There was a look exchanged between Sabrina and Kelly that wasn't missed by the sharp eye of Bosley.

"Rest assured that this case will not require any of you to actually join the army," he was quick to add; watching as another look – this time one of relief - passed between the two girls.

"What exactly does the general want to talk to us about?" Kris broke the silence, having missed the nervous exchanges between her two friends.

"With the assurance that there's no chance of any of us ending up on the KP roster, the good general can come in here and tell us whatever he wants to," Kelly proclaimed cheerfully.

Sabrina stifled a laugh at the remembrance of Kelly's time in basic training. She'd been lucky and escaped the worst of the treatment that had been meted out; something that her two friends had not been quick to forgive. She struggled to remember just how many meals it had cost her until they grudgingly forgave her for escaping the rigours of basic training.

"But you looked so good in khaki," she teased from her place behind the bar.

Kris turned her head and watched the way that Sabrina's eyes were alight with mischief.

"Don't tell me," she queried "BMT?"

"BYT," Sabrina confirmed with a grin. "And be glad that it was," she added. "Army life was not the great adventure it promised to be on the recruitment poster."

"BMT, BYT?" Bosley questioned, fearing that the conversation was already beginning to get away from him.

"Before my time," Kris explained.

"Before your time," Sabrina added the alternate version as she poured herself a cold glass of soda from the well-stocked bar.

Bosley was about to ask them why they didn't just talk in English, but decided that it wasn't worth the long explanation he was likely to get. He settled for shaking his head and glancing again at his watch.

"General being a little tardy for your liking?" Sabrina inquired with an innocent tone to her voice as she made her way over to her usual seat.

Bosley's view on timekeeping was well known within the office; if there was one thing that annoyed Bos; it was people who were late.

"No," Bosley countered. "I was just hoping that the three of you would be done with your sours before he got here."

"Ooohhh," Sabrina smiled at the comment. "Someone else have plans ruined today?"

Bosley didn't get the chance to answer as at that moment Charlie called through and announced that the general would be at the door momentarily. Bosley waved away the offers of help, and went to answer the door himself. It wasn't that he didn't trust the girls; it was more a matter of the reaction of some of the clients. Bosley had the sneaking suspicion that, despite talking the matter over with Charlie, the general was going to be somewhat taken aback when he met the Angels. Military types, he decided, were not always the most forward looking.

Plastering his best 'trust me I'm a professional' look on his face, Bosley made his way to the door; straightening his suit jacket as he walked.

"General Warner," Bosley opened the door and beckoned the smart-suited man into the office. The general was in his mid-forties, his hair once black was now greying at the temples, and cut close to his scalp.

He straightened up upon seeing Bosley, and offered his hand out to be shaken.

"If you'd like to come in," Bosley gestured towards the office, "We'll get started straight away."

"Now this case is a little on the unusual side Angels," Charlie warned them as the general made his way across the office. "I'll let the general explain things to you."

Even though he was out of uniform, there was still a distinctly military bearing about the man. He stood ramrod straight, and if he had any doubts about the Angel's ability to do the job he wanted, he kept them well hidden. He took the seat that Bosley offered him and then looked at each of the girls in turn.

"This year is the fifteenth anniversary of the Fort Menzies crash...

Sabrina's eyes widened. "You talking about Henry Sullivan and the rescue on the runway?" she asked, interrupting him.

General Warner nodded and smiled at the awe he detected in the young detective's voice; her tone of voice causing him to forgive her interruption. "That's one of the names it's been given down the years."

"I can remember my dad telling me all about that," Sabrina confessed with a rueful smile. "That was some rescue."

"For those of you who may not know of the exploits of Henry Sullivan…" Bosley cut across the conversation and earned himself a grateful look from Kris. He switched on the projector and clicked the first slide into place.

The general took up the explanation "In December 1962, Army Flight K47 crashed whilst attempting an emergency landing on the runway at Fort Menzies in Alabama. K47 was a standard flight out of Menzies to the depot at Anniston. There was a storm coming in from the Gulf Stream, and only a narrow window of opportunity to get the flight off the ground and underway. When the plane developed engine trouble, the pilot decided to return to Menzies rather than put down at the nearest strip."

The slide came slowly into focus as Bosley turned off the main lights, and revealed an image of the crash site. Flames were climbing high into the night sky and there was a hive of activity around the remains of the plane on the runway.

"Seven men lost their lives in the accident but the death toll would have been much higher, but for the swift and brave actions of a handful of ground crew who were in the area at the time."

Bosley clicked on to the next slide, which showed uniformed men struggling to help others to safety. In the foreground, silhouetted by the flames that were starting to lick at the fuselage, was a man whose face was a picture of determination. He was supporting an obviously injured man.

"Henry Sullivan was among the men who aided in the rescue of the survivors. He returned to the stricken aircraft again and again, trying to rescue those who were trapped within. Without the selflessness of people like Henry; I m certain that more men would have been killed," the general added.

"He never wanted any publicity for his actions, did he?" Sabrina remarked as she settled back into her seat.

"He's always maintained that he was just doing his job. That photograph made the front cover of most of the nationals the next morning, but Henry just wasn't interested in selling his story" The general nodded in Sabrina's direction. "You seem to know an awful lot about Henry Sullivan."

Sabrina smiled apologetically. "It was my dad; he was in the service at the time – When I was a kid he'd come home and tell me the stories he heard about that evening."

"Your dad had an unusual run on bedtime stories," Kelly told her friend with a smile. "What did he do for an encore – tell you the details of the Battle of New Orleans?"

"You're not so far from the truth," Sabrina admitted ruefully. "He's probably the reason I aced history."

The general broke across the chat. "Was your father serving at Menzies at the time?"

Sabrina shook her head. "No, we were across the other side of the country in 62." She closed her eyes, trying to remember the name of the base. Finally she shrugged. "No; it's gone. Moved so much back then that everything's kind of blurred into one. My dad was stationed at the same base as Sullivan later on though."

"Did you ever meet him?"

"No." The answer was clipped, her mood changing in an instant. "I was away at school by then." She looked down at her hands. "That crash was about more than Henry Sullivan though, wasn't it?"

"Henry is the man that everyone remembers, but there were other lives caught up in the crash. And those men didn't walk away."

Bosley took his cue and moved on to the next slide. It showed a smart-suited man in his mid forties. He was standing at a podium, obviously in the middle of some public address.

"Sam Ward, an up and coming republican senator had been speaking in the area. When he missed his scheduled flight, he asked the Menzies base commander if he could hitch a ride on the next plane out. Turned out to be the last favour he ever called in."

The general waited for Bosley to turn off the projector and bring the main lights in the office back up before continuing. "The crash is about to be brought back into the public eye with the upcoming fifteen year anniversary." He cleared his throat. "Even if we decided to play down the incident, there will always be those who wish to make an event out of it." He pulled a face. "There are rumours that someone is planning to release a new book to coincide with the anniversary. Ever since the accident there have been those who have wanted to label it as a deliberate act. Senator Ward was stirring up a political hornets nest at the time..."

"And they think someone orchestrated the crash?" Sabrina's tone was filled with disbelief.

The general nodded. "More specifically they believe that the CIA were involved because of Senator Ward's rather ... outspoken views against the then current administration."

Sabrina shook her head. "That's just paranoia."

"I know that, and you know that," the general told her sagely. "But there are those who choose to see conspiracy at every turn. Naturally the families of those who lost people in the crash are concerned with the way that their loved ones will be portrayed."

"Do the families have any reason to suspect that a book will be anything other than favourable?" Kris asked.

"That's one of the things that I'd like you to find out. The publisher has been quick to intimate that the book will blow things wide open, but we have no idea what angle the writer is going for. We know from reports that he's interviewed many of the residents of Menzies, trying to get them to recall their memories of the crash, but as far as we know he's made no direct contact with Henry or the other serving men."

"Do we know the name of this man?"

The general shook his head. "I thought I'd leave that side of things to you. The press get word that the army is investigating and it just adds fuel to the fire."

"Right." Sabrina tapped her pen on her notepad. "Were the results of the original crash investigation made public?"

The general nodded. "The original accident report named the pilot as solely responsible for the crash. His wife has campaigned to get the case re-opened and have her husband's name cleared but nothing has ever come of it." The general cleared his throat. "That's one of the things that the community that set itself up near the base has always used as 'evidence' that the crash was orchestrated."

Kris held up a hand. "Pardon me...the community?"

General Warner pulled a face. "They call themselves 'The Watch' but if you ask me they're nothing more than a public nuisance. The first tent went up the week the accident report was made public. They're a small group; maybe twenty or thirty camped near the base at any one time, but they're convinced that the CIA was responsible for Senator Ward's death, and they say that they'll keep a presence at the base until the truth is finally revealed."

"No-one's moved them on?"

"The local sheriff tried, the MPs on the base tried, but the group are quick to contact the local media, and nothing the local paper likes more than to run a story about how the police or the army are hassling some poor protesters. The local residents ignore them for the most part, but they're a thorn in the side of those who want to simply mourn those who died that night."

Kelly let out a long breath. "So we have CIA conspiracy nuts, a journalist with a story to get out... anyone else we need to know about?"

"Anyone who's ever read about the crash?" Sabrina suggested. "I'm guessing that Henry's reclusive nature has only caused more people to try and find him to talk to him."

The general nodded. "You're right. It's been hard to shield Henry from the public. The army has done what it can down the years to grant him his wish to remain out of the public eye but there has always been interest in him."

"Where is Henry at the moment?"

"Ordinance Depot, just east of Barstow." The general noted the look that passed across Sabrina's face and sought to explain. "Henry actually requested the posting a few years back."

"...Right," Sabrina's answer again was clipped; something that didn't escape the notice of her colleagues.

The general exchanged a glance with Bosley and then reluctantly carried on. "In the last few months Henry has been requesting an advance on his wages. I authorised a check on his finances, and it looks as though he's been systematically emptying his accounts." He shrugged his shoulders. "There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this, but ..."

"...you want us to prove that it's not some sort of blackmail connection?" Kelly finished for him.

The general nodded. "Henry seems pretty keen to keep things to himself, but from what I understand he's been on the receiving end of some nuisance calls. Henry being Henry, the last thing he wants is attention, but I'm concerned that this may simply be a precursor to something bigger. Whether he accepts it or not, Henry has always been the public face of the crash." His piece said the general rose to his feet. "I'd like you to find out what's going on. Henry's been a good servant to his country; he shouldn't have to deal with this."

Kelly smiled sympathetically in his direction. "We'll do all we can."

The general acknowledged them in turn, and then let Bosley lead him from the office.

"Well you've heard what General Warner has to say," Charlie's voice broke across the silence in the room as the door closed behind the departing man.

"You really think someone's out to blackmail Henry Sullivan?" Kelly wanted to know, turning to face Sabrina and hoping to shake her friend out of her self-imposed silence.

Sabrina shook her head. "I can't believe anyone would want to," she admitted, still sounding somewhat distracted. "The man's a hero. When you think of the lives that he and the other men saved that night…."

"So you think the good general's overreacting?"

"I think someone needs to go and check out the details; see if there is anything to them. I mean, it could just be kids messing around, but ..." she tailed off, knowing that she didn't need to finish the thought.

"And what about this journalist and his book?"

Sabrina shrugged her shoulders. "He's certainly worth taking a look at; as is that little group of protesters near the base. Be interesting to see what their angle is." She let out a long breath and then closed her eyes.

Kelly and Kris exchanged glances.

"Are you ok?" Kris wanted to know.

Sabrina opened her eyes and was immediately all business again. "I'm fine. It just comes to something when someone targets a man like Henry Sullivan."

There was another look that passed between Kelly and Kris. There was more going on than Sabrina was saying. It was pointless to try and force the matter now. They would have to bide their time and wait for a more opportune moment to raise the issue.

"Sabrina?"

"Yeah Charlie?"

"I'd like you to go and see Henry Sullivan, talk to him, try and find out what's going on."

Kelly noticed the look that passed across her friend's face at Charlie's words but she didn't say anything.

"Sabrina?" Charlie prompted.

Sabrina chose her words carefully. "Sounds as though there's a lot going on in Menzies..."

"I'd rather you were the one to speak with Sullivan. From what the general's told me, Sullivan won't necessarily welcome an intrusion into his life. You could at least talk army life with him."

Sabrina remained silent for a few moments. "He's living off base, right?" she finally asked.

"Right."

Sabrina caught the questioning look from Kelly. "I spent the best part of my childhood stuck on one army base or another... guess I've just had my fill of them."

"Right you are Angel." Charlie replied smoothly, accepting her answer. "...Kelly?"

"The general made it sound as though there was already a pile of information about the crash at the records office. I wouldn't mind the opportunity to look through it." She shrugged. "Who knows; there may be something there that was missed. I can also look a little more into Sam Ward, try and get a handle on exactly who he was upsetting in the weeks leading up to the crash." She glanced around at the others. "I know it's unlikely that there's anything in it, but it's worth at least clearing that avenue of inquiry."

Kris looked balefully at the other two. "I guess that means that I've got the job of heading out to the crash site?"

Kelly failed to suppress a smile. "Yep. Your turn to head out into the wide blue yonder." She glanced down at the map of the area that the general had supplied. "There's an awful lot of nothing out there."

Bosley nodded; a serious expression on his face. "They do say that travel broadens the mind."

Kris narrowed her eyes and glared at him.

"I'll book you a hotel room," Bosley told her. "You shouldn't have any trouble finding the place ... there is only the one hotel in town."

Kris pulled a face. "You guys are enjoying this way too much."

"Hey," Kelly warned her. "No-one said that every trip would be to Hawaii."

"I want a trip there when I get back," Kris protested. "This is Nowheresville." She folded her arms and admitted defeat. "When do we start?"

Bosley smiled at her. "I took the liberty of booking you a seat on this evening's flight." He glanced at his watch. "You've got a couple of hours to pack."

* * *

It was the low growl from Missy that drew Henry's attention away from the play on the radio. He watched as she slowly rose to her feet, her hackles starting to rise.

"If it's that cat from 5B, you've just got to accept that she's a resident in this building just like you," Henry warned. Nevertheless he eased himself out of his chair and switched off the radio.

The Labrador kept its attention firmly fixed on the front door; a low growl again emanating from the back of her throat. She took a few hesitant steps towards the door and then glanced up at her owner, waiting to see what he'd do.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" he shook his head as he headed out into the narrow passageway that led to the front door; the dog hot on his heels. "I can't believe that I let you talk me into this. There'll be nothing there...there never is."

Henry slid the chain off and then undid the bolt on the door. "See," he told the dog as he pulled the door open wide. "There's nothing ..." The words died in his throat. His door was daubed with what looked like blood. It ran in rivulets onto the mat below.

Cold sweat beaded on Henry's face and he slammed the door shut again. He ignored the nose that pressed against his hand, wanting attention. He was a soldier; he wasn't going to be intimidated by the juvenile act of some local kid. Despite the early hour, he made his way over to the liquor cabinet and reached for the scotch.


	2. Chapter 2

_**This chapter's a little more manageable in size. Thanks to those who braved the first chapter and were kind enough to review... it's great to know that you're out there.**_

* * *

Sabrina closed her eyes and took a deep breath, reminding herself for the twentieth time that this was work and that she couldn't simply get up and walk away. Since the general had introduced them, and then clumsily excused himself from the meeting; Henry Sullivan had done nothing but glare at her, and make it patently clear that he saw her presence as nothing other than an unwanted nuisance.

She'd done her best to be pleasant and cordial to him, but the wily old soldier wasn't about to let her win him over. He glared at her again with barely disguised contempt as he raised his coffee cup. Taking a deep breath, Sabrina tried once more to make Henry understand what she was doing.

"It's only until General Warner is happy that..."

"What?" Henry interrupted her, not letting her finish. "That he can prove I'm incapable of looking after myself, and he gets to deny me my pension!"

Sabrina raised her hands. "Oh no sir, nothing like that. It's just ..."

"I've told you before," Henry grumbled, cutting her off. "Don't call me sir; I work for a living!"

"I'm sorry," Sabrina found herself apologising again. "Force of habit."

"A guy gets a few crank phone calls and some juvenile attempts at humour through the mail, and suddenly people are falling all over themselves to make sure that I'm fine." Henry fixed Sabrina with a firm glare. "And why exactly would that be?"

Sabrina took a mouthful of her own drink in order to calm her quickly evaporating patience.

"General Warner knows my employer. The general was concerned that someone might be trying to ..." she searched around for the most appropriate word. Saying something like 'scare' at this point in an already fragile relationship was not going to win her any points. She compromised with 'unsettle', and waited to see how that would be taken.

Henry harrumphed with annoyance and muttered something behind his coffee cup. Sabrina was fairly certain that it related to her personally, but refused to rise to the bait. She'd met more than her fair share of prejudice in recent years, and she wasn't about to let a grizzled old war horse like Henry Sullivan get the better of her.

"I'm just going to take a look at what's been going on. If there's nothing to report, then I'll be out of your hair in no time."

Sabrina saw the corner of Henry's mouth tighten and wished that she'd chosen a different expression. She thought about apologising again, but realised that if she continued apologising for everything she said that upset him, she was liable to be there all day.

"It'll probably just be for a few days," she tried to placate him. "We'll get in, do our job and then leave you in peace."

"We?" Henry questioned. "Just how many of you am I expected to entertain?"

Sabrina took a calming breath. "You'll hardly know we're there."

"That didn't answer my question," Henry grumbled. "I'm not sure I have the supplies to feed..."

"...an army?" Sabrina suggested; immediately regretting her choice of words as Henry glowered at her. "The last thing we want to do is disrupt your normal routine. I do have colleagues working on this with me, but if you prefer it I'll be the only one to make direct contact with you."

There was a part of Sabrina that was hoping that Henry would object at this point, and then she could pass responsibility over to Bosley, but the man accepted her compromise with a muttered reply.

"If anyone asks I'm your niece, come to stay with you for a few days."

Henry scowled. "Not seen much of my relatives in the last few years."

"That's perfect then," Sabrina's smile was fixed firmly on her face. "No-one will know that I'm not family."

The scowl on Henry's face remained and Sabrina felt her own smile begin to falter. It was, she suspected, going to be a very long afternoon.

* * *

Kelly looked at the glossy 10 x 8 photograph of Senator Ward. The man was staring straight down the barrel of the camera, a slight smile playing on the edge of his lips.

"He was a handsome man," she remarked, a note of sadness in her voice. "Was he married?"

Bosley nodded as he struggled in through the apartment doorway with another suitcase. "Married young and was father to two small children when he died."

Kelly frowned. "Such a loss."

"His party would agree with you. He was quite the leading light. Not afraid to shake the tree in an attempt to bring down a few of the old guard who he thought were not earning their keep."

"So he made himself a few enemies along the way?"

Bosley smiled. "You're beginning to sound like one of the conspiracy theorists," he chided. "They were convinced at the time that the crash was planned."

Kelly placed the photo back down on the table in front of her. "You really think that someone was looking to get Ward out of the way?"

Bosley put down the final case and perched on the edge of the sofa, trying to get his breath back. "He was saying things that upset a lot of people."

"But saying enough to get him killed?"

Bosley gestured towards the stack of files that sat on the table between them. "You can read all about him yourself," he advised her. "It's all there."

Kelly looked at the stack of files and groaned. "You couldn't have just brought the Cliff notes?"

Bosley glanced in the direction of the stack of cases. "You couldn't have packed light?"

Kelly smiled. "Touché."

"I don't know why the two of you had to move out here anyway. It's not as though it's that long a drive from the city."

"Now now Bos, we've explained that. It makes more sense for us to be out here within easy reach of the base and Sullivan."

"And the fact that Charlie is picking up the tab for the apartment is just coincidental?"

Kelly raised her eyebrows as she glanced around at the apartment. "It's not exactly the Ritz Bos. If we'd been planning a luxury holiday we wouldn't have let you book the accommodation." She glanced back at Bosley and found that she couldn't hold back the laugh at the hurt expression on his face. "I'm sorry Bos; this place is fine... really."

"You're not the only one who seems put out at the location. It was like getting blood out of a stone to get an answer out of Sabrina about this place earlier. You have any idea what's bothering her?"

Kelly shook her head. "She didn't seem awful keen to come out here, that's for sure. From the way she reacted when Sullivan's name was mentioned I would have thought that she'd jump at the chance to meet the man himself."

Bosley mulled the matter over for a few moments. "Maybe she had plans for the week ahead?"

"Possible..." Kelly pushed the idea to one side. "You really think that someone is hounding Sullivan?"

"Charlie had us take the call; he must think that there's a case to answer." Bosley took in the expression on his colleague's face. "You disagree?"

"I'm thinking that maybe Charlie owes the general a favour and he's calling it in. Come on; since when did Charlie send us out when there was little more to go on than a few prank phone calls and a little unexplained cash flow?"

"Charlie doesn't do anything unless he's certain of it," Bosley replied loyally.

"Meaning that there's something that the good general isn't telling us. Bosley, can you call me up everything that there is on Henry Sullivan? And can you do it without the general knowing?"

Bosley pulled a face. "I can but try."

Kelly smiled winningly at him. "That's all a girl can ask for Bosley!"

* * *

Sabrina slowed the car to a halt on the baking parking lot, loose chips of gravel spraying out from beneath the wheels. She killed the engine and leant forward on the steering wheel, glancing up at the utilitarian apartment block in front of her. There was nothing remarkable about the five storey building, nothing to distinguish it from the others clustered around it.

"Can't afford nothing fancy," Henry told her shortly noting her examination of the area. "...Not on the sort of money that the army pays."

"When did you move off base?" she asked conversationally as she climbed from the car and out into the oppressive close heat. It had taken some persuasion before Henry had grudgingly agreed to allow her to drive him back to his apartment. She wasn't sure exactly how long the current flag of truce was going to last.

She watched as Henry shrugged his shoulders. "Comes a point in a man's life when he doesn't want to live above the shop as it were. Been out here for about five years. No-one bothers me...I'm left to get on with things by myself."

Sabrina recognised the thinly veiled complaint about her presence for what it was and slammed the car door shut with slightly more force than was strictly necessary. If Henry kept up with his digs then it was going to be a very long day indeed. She forced a smile onto her face and promised herself that she wasn't going to lose her patience with him.

"What made you want to come back out to Barstow? General Warner said that you requested the post."

Henry shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. "It's quiet." He glanced pointedly in her direction. "I like the quiet."

Sabrina bit back her response. It wouldn't do any good to argue with the man this early. If she was going to get any information from him, then she had to play the patient game. Henry's pace slowed and the scowl on his face deepened. Sabrina noticed his change in pace and asked him what the matter was.

"That," he told her flatly, pointing in the direction of the car that was parked across the road. Sabrina took in the powerful zoom lens that the driver was pointing in their direction and her mouth formed into a thin, hard line.

"Who is he?"

Henry gave a half shrug. "Don't know and don't care. He turned up here a couple of weeks ago. Same old story; some young idiot wanting to know about the crash, and when I tell him that I don't want to talk to him, he takes to hanging around in that damned car of his."

"He's been here for a while?"

"Isn't that what I just said!"

"Excuse me a second," Sabrina apologised, and, dodging her way neatly through the traffic, made her way to the battered Sedan that was parked against the kerb. "Something I can help you with?" she enquired of the slightly surprised driver.

The man lowered the heavy camera he was holding and looked up at the woman in front of him. Her tone had been light, but her body language indicated that she was anything but happy.

"I'm just doing my job," he told her.

"And what 'job' would that be?" she demanded to know, indicating with a single inflection, exactly what she thought of his activities.

Carl Douglas shifted in his seat and appraised the woman standing in front of him. If it hadn't have been for the obvious attitude she was giving off, he might have been prepared to sit down and explain anything she wanted to hear over a tall glass of beer. The look she was giving him though was anything but friendly, and he felt his temper fray.

"I'm a journalist," he told her, making no effort to hide the annoyance in his voice. "Not that it's any concern of yours."

"Uh huh. You spend a lot of your time skulking around in cars and spying on innocent members of the public?"

"Innocent!" Carl spat the word out. "That guy you're with wouldn't know innocent if it passed him in the street."

"No?" Sabrina was on full alert. "You got proof of that have you?"

"Listen lady, I don't have to explain myself to you. I'm perfectly within my rights to sit in my own car and carry out my own investigations."

"You call sitting in a car and taking snap shots of people an investigation?"

"Hey lady, we've all got to start somewhere."

"So what exactly are you planning to do with your little 'photo-story'?"

Carl bristled at her tone but attempted to keep a lid on his temper. "Hey lady; it's none of your business what I'm doing here. This is a free country and I'm exercising my right to sit in my own car and do whatever the hell I want."

Sabrina opened her mouth to fire a retort back at the man – telling him that she would be well within her rights to call the police and complain about harassment – but she caught herself in time. "You stay the hell away from my uncle," she snapped instead, noting the reaction from the man in the car.

His body language changed almost immediately, and his study of her became more intense.

"You related to that old fraud? Well you have my sympathy."

Sabrina turned on her heel and stalked away from the car. She needed to get on the phone and call Kelly. There was a chance that the man was the journalist that the general had mentioned. If he wasn't, then there was still a possibility that he might be able to tell them who he was selling his pictures to.

She reached the front door of the apartment building and turned back to face the road where the car was parked. The lens of the camera was trained on her. She did her best to ignore the fact, and made a final note of the car's details, then headed into the building.

* * *

Carl Douglas fired off the final shot of the film and lowered his camera. He'd been following the old man around for a couple of weeks and got nothing but dirty looks for his troubles. He'd been banking on the old man coming over and being able to engage him in conversation but it had never happened. A niece; now that put a different complexion on the situation. There was the possibility for leverage when a member of the family was involved. He placed his camera on his lap and began winding the film back into the canister as he contemplated the rest of the morning. He'd hang around a bit longer, see what else happened. There was more to the story than he currently had; he was certain of it. All he had to be was a little more patient, and then he'd get his reward.

He popped open the back of the camera and withdrew the completed roll of film, switching it with a fresh one. As he hooked the sprocket holes around the take up, another idea crossed his mind. There was someone who'd offered to pay him good money for information about Sullivan. He'd not taken to the man, but this might be the kind of thing he'd been on about. Resolving to look up the man's number when he returned home, he snapped the back of the camera shut and returned his attention to Sullivan's apartment block.


	3. Chapter 3

Henry, Sabrina noted, hadn't bothered to wait for her. Another sign, if she needed one, that she wasn't welcome. She made her way up in the elevator to the top floor and then out into the blandly decorated hallway. The apartment door at the far end was open. She entered; walking swiftly into the main living area past Henry, calling back at him over her shoulder.

"You mind if I use your phone?"

If Henry was surprised by her brusqueness, he didn't say anything.

Sabrina grabbed hold of the receiver and punched in the number for the apartment that had been rented out to them. The phone was answered on the third ring.

"Bos; it's Bri. Is Kelly there?"

Henry sank down onto the sofa and watched with barely disguised amusement the whirlwind of activity that had just burst into his apartment. He wasn't certain of the last time that someone with that amount of energy had been in the place. He watched as she lifted the phone from the table and headed towards the window, talking all the time.

"There's a guy outside the apartment block at the moment; he's sat in his car taking photos of us with a zoom lens, like we're nothing more than exhibits at the zoo." There was a pause and then. "Yeah, that'd be great. Didn't get a name from him but he claims to be a journalist. Flatter his ego a little and I'm sure you'll be able to find out everything you need to know."

Henry watched her place the phone on the table and use her free hand to peer through the blinds. "He's still out front, doesn't look like he plans on going anywhere in a hurry. If you're quick I'm sure you'll catch him."

A minute or so later she put the phone down and turned to face him, as if realising for the first time that she had just taken over something that he regarded as his territory.

She flashed a smile at him. "Sorry about that."

Henry took a breath and appraised the woman in front of him again. He'd been rude from the start; he was well aware of that, and he wasn't about to apologise for it. After what he'd been through in his time in the army, he felt as though he should be treated with a little more respect.

He'd been royally ticked off when the general had called him in and told him, somewhat matter-of-factly, that someone had been assigned to look into the incidents that had occurred. That he hadn't been consulted about it in the first place had rankled somewhat; and the issue had only been compounded upon meeting the smiling young woman at the diner. His first instinct had been to ask her exactly what she thought she'd do if someone was to threaten them. He was glad now that he'd kept his mouth shut. Whatever else she was, she was in control of what she was doing, and didn't seem to suffer fools gladly. She'd given the guy in the car short shrift, and he'd had to hide the smile that was threatening to form on his face, as the driver realised that he'd met his match.

He still wasn't happy; but he was perhaps willing to concede that he owed the girl a second chance.

"That guy's been hanging around for a while out there in his car," he admitted.

A tight frown immediately appeared on Sabrina's face. "General Warner never said anything."

"General Warner doesn't know everything," Henry told her pointedly.

"Ahh." Sabrina looked at Henry. "I think perhaps you and I should have a little talk about some of the other things that General Warner doesn't know." She gestured around the room. "That is, if you don't mind."

Henry looked as though he was going to offer resistance to the suggestion but any comments he was about to make were interrupted by a scrabbling sound from the kitchen, followed by a low whine.

Sabrina cocked her head to one side. "What is that noise?"

Henry looked at the bemused expression on Sabrina's face and smiled. "I may be getting on in years but I still know how to break the odd rule." His eyes shone with amusement. "You won't say anything, will you?"

Sabrina couldn't prevent a smile from forming. "Say anything about what?"

"Missy," Henry told her as he rose to his feet and crossed the room. The moment that he released the catch and opened the kitchen door, there was a blur of black as something shot across the room.

"Hey, hey." Sabrina tried to keep the laugh under control as the black Labrador tried to greet both her master and the new visitor at the same time.

"She's gorgeous," she told him honestly as the black dog wagged its tail for all it was worth and pushed its head under Sabrina's hands looking for attention. Sabrina knelt down and obligingly made a fuss of the dog; within moments the barriers that had been thrown up by Henry were at least partially destroyed.

"I think she likes you," Henry reported with a smile. "You have a dog of your own?"

Sabrina looked in Henry's direction. "I wish. It's just not possible with the hours I work. I have to settle with pets by proxy." She took in the look of confusion that passed across Henry's face. "The secret is to always pick friends who have pets; then there's always someone's dog you can walk, or someone's cat you can make a fuss of."

Henry's face relaxed into a smile again. "I wouldn't be without Missy; army rules or no army rules." He shrugged his shoulders. "Super of the building doesn't mind me having her ... hell he even saves scraps and buys treats for her."

Sabrina straightened up and gestured towards the main table. "I won't say anything about Missy to the general... if you promise to level with me." She paused as the dog pushed its head under her hand, still seeking more attention. "Ok, I won't say anything about Missy whatever happens... but I need to know everything that's been going on in the past couple of months." She made eye contact with him. "I need you to be honest with me."

Henry let his shoulders sag as he realised that he was beaten. "Ok," he agreed grudgingly, leading the way back across the room to the table. "I just don't want you coming in here and treating me as though I'm some old man who doesn't know what he's doing... I had people shooting at me in Korea before you were even born!"

Sabrina rolled her eyes as she followed him, the dog still dancing around at her feet. She'd met enough old soldiers in her time to know that he was not going to make the interview easy.

* * *

"We should be doing something," Bosley protested for the umpteenth time, his mind thinking back to the stack of unread files back at the apartment.

Kelly suppressed a sigh. "We **are** doing something Bos; we're waiting for an opening."

Bosley grumbled and shifted in his seat "If I'd known that you were planning on spending the morning sat in a car, watching another guy sat in a car watching a building then I would have insisted on bringing a car with more comfortable seats!" Bosley shifted his position again. "Some cars are not designed for sitting in."

Kelly shushed him, and returned her attention to the car that Sabrina had called about. Just as she'd been told, there was a man behind the wheel; a camera with a heavy zoom lens resting on the frame of his wound down window. Kelly raised her own camera and took aim at the figure. As she depressed the shutter, she felt the car lurch to one side.

"Bosley," she turned to face him, barely able to contain her frustration.

"Sorry!" Bos apologised as he shifted his weight again. "I'm just trying to get comfortable."

Kelly muttered something beneath her breath and turned her attention back to the car across the road.

"So if you decide to make contact with this man of mystery," Bosley wanted to know. "Who exactly is going to go through all that paperwork we collected from the good general?"

There was no response from Kelly, and Bosley let out a heavy sigh. "Why did I even bother asking?"

* * *

The driver of the black Chevy had watched as the battered Sedan pulled out of the parking lot. He'd watched silently as a second car had pulled away from the kerb and followed it down the road. He picked up his notebook from the seat opposite and made a note of the registration. The Sedan driver he knew; the man had been hanging around for a couple of weeks now, but the two in the Mustang were new, as was the Pinto parked in the lot. He'd not seen the driver, but the car was certainly a new addition.

Now he glanced up at the fifth floor window. If Sullivan was the creature of habit that he suspected then it would only be a short period of time before the man was on the move. He climbed from his car and locked the door, before systematically checking the other doors. There was no harm in being careful – after all, anyone could be out on the street

* * *

"When did the calls start?" Sabrina tapped her pen on the blank page of her notebook. In the past hour Henry had told her stories of his time in the army, and of how he had managed to keep Missy a secret from his army bosses. What he hadn't done however was give her anything useful with regards to the case. Sabrina realised that he wasn't keen on the idea of anyone making a fuss. The more she tried to broach the subject, the more he returned to being the taciturn man she'd met that morning. He glared at her in response to her question.

"Look, I don't even know why everyone's making such a fuss over nothing."

Sabrina took a deep breath knowing that she had to broach the matter of the crash with him.

"The general told us that there was someone writing a book about the crash. Its publication is due to coincide with this year's anniversary. Isn't it possible that these calls are in some way connected?"

Henry frowned and placed his cup and saucer back on the table. "I don't know why everyone has to assume that everything that happens in my life is in some way connected with that damned night. I've done more things in my life; I've seen more things in my life. Not everything comes back to that one incident."

"But this might" she persisted. "Surely it's worth finding out one way or the other."

"It's just kids," he snapped at her. "When people shoot at you then you know you're in trouble. When they post things through your door and call you in the middle of the night, then you know that it's kids!"

Sabrina was a little unsettled by the way that Henry's mood had suddenly shifted. "It needs to be stopped," she told him gently.

"Then I'll be the one to stop it. I may be getting long in the tooth, but I'm still more than capable of taking care of myself. I don't need someone coming in here and trying to run my life for me." He sat back in his chair and regarded Sabrina. "This isn't the Kennedy assassination we're talking about here. There is no conspiracy, there is no big secret. Some kids think that they can scare an old man, and I'm going to be the one to tell them that they can't."

"What if it isn't kids?"

Henry threw his hands in the air. "The last fifteen years of my life I've been followed around by idiots like that kid in the car. That's what the crash vultures do...They hang around and hope that something will fall their way. They don't **do **anything...they're scavengers; feeding on any scraps they can find."

"But these calls..."

"It's kids!" Henry repeated; losing any remaining patience.

Sabrina stared down at her notebook. "Isn't it possible that it's someone who's trying to intimidate you?" She decided that it was best to steer away from mentioning the money issues at the present time. "You've never spoken publicly about the crash. Maybe... maybe..."

"Maybe what?" Henry's angry voice cut across Sabrina's hesitant speech.

"Maybe someone's scared about what it is you could say."

Henry scoffed at the suggestion. "What can I possibly say that hasn't already been reported? The incident was covered... overly so in my opinion ... by the press at the time. Investigations were carried out, verdicts were returned. There is nothing more to be said about that night no matter what anyone may want you to believe."

"So why do you refuse to talk to anyone about it?"

The look on Henry's face made Sabrina wish that she'd not asked the question.

"Interfering, pushy journalists have spent the last fifteen years telling me what I ought to do. Ghoulish members of the public write to me and pretty much demand I tell them what it was like pulling the bodies of my friends from the fuselage." He broke off abruptly and rose to his feet. He strode angrily across the room and pulled open the top drawer of the bureau that was placed against the wall. He snatched at a handful of crumpled letters and threw them down on the table. "You want to read some of this for yourself? You want to know what it's like to have people demanding you tell them every detail about your life as though they have some god given right to know?"

Sabrina noticed that the man was physically shaking with anger. She held up her hands wanting to find some way to placate Henry, but the old soldier was not in the mood to listen.

"You think that me saying anything would stop this? You think that anything would change? I've had to live with the memory of that night all this time. I don't need to relive it to feed the bloodthirsty little minds of other people." He gestured towards the door. "I don't need a babysitter. I don't need General Warner telling you that I need mothering. I don't need anything from anybody."

"Please..."

"No," Henry cut across her before she had a chance to say another word. "This ...this farce ends now. I'm a soldier in the US Army. I do not need some ... some...girl nearly half my age telling me what it is that I have to do."

His piece said, Henry stormed across the room and slammed the door shut.

After a moment Sabrina let out a long breath. She rested her elbows on the table and looked down at the screwed up pile of letters. She'd misread the situation and probably blown the only chance they had to get Henry Sullivan on side. She closed her fist and slammed it down on the table in frustration.

Missy let out a low whine and pushed her head onto Sabrina's knee.

"Hey," Sabrina made an effort to lighten her voice. "It's nothing to do with you, trust me." She patted the dog on the head. "I'm the one who has to call my boss to explain why I just got bounced off a case."

Feeling like an intruder in the apartment, she pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. There was nothing more to be done. Henry Sullivan was in no mood to listen to anything she or anyone else had to say. She'd talk to Bos, and then Charlie...maybe one of them would find a way to smooth things out with the old soldier. She had the feeling that the man wouldn't want to speak with her again.

She clenched her fists again in anger. She'd messed up. Messed up and possibly lost them the case.


	4. Chapter 4

The car came to a shuddering halt on the burning asphalt and Kris let out a sigh of relief. The state of the hire car left a lot to be desired, the suspension was shot, the air-conditioning non-existent, and the brakes more than a little on the spongy side. She resolved to have a long conversation with Bosley on her return to L.A about the merits of spending a little extra on the rental cars.

She killed the engine and climbed out of the vehicle, trying to ignore the dry heat that hit her full in the face. The weather was unseasonably warm and she wished that she'd packed something a little cooler for the trip.

She pushed her hair back behind her ears and made her way over towards the plain looking grey tablet that sat upon a raised plinth at the side of the road.

As memorials went it was definitely on the understated side. It simply listed the names of the dead and the date of the crash.

The army base had been redesigned five years earlier and the airstrip re-sited. What had once been the end of the runway was now a little used road that ran into the local town.

Kris raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as something caught her attention; there was a bright spray of colour at the front of the concrete plinth. As she stepped closer to the monument, she realised that it was a bunch of freshly cut flowers.

Kneeling down to get a closer look at them, she caught sight of a small card that was tucked into the base of the bunch. Carefully, she pulled it clear and read the simple message that was written on it.

Someone obviously still cared about the lives that had been lost. There was no name on the card, but the small print at the bottom revealed that the flowers had come from a local florist.

Straightening back up, and shielding her eyes from the glaring sunlight; Kris looked around at the unforgiving wilderness. People had lost their lives on this plot of earth but now there was nothing but the plinth to indicate that anything had ever been there. She shuddered as she thought back to the pictures that Bosley had shown them at the office. That hive of activity seemed a world away from the place where she now stood.

She shook the feeling off and headed back to the car, her feet crunching on the loose gravel. A visit to the florist would be the first thing on the agenda – maybe they could tell her a little more about the individual who bought the flowers.

She climbed back into the car and slammed the door shut. Even with the windows open, the car was like an oven. She turned the key in the ignition and the engine spluttered reluctantly into life. She was going to have more than a few words with Bosley if the car let her down.

* * *

Kris stepped into the relaxing cool of the flower shop and heard the gentle tinkling of the bell that was hung over the top of the door. She smiled at the sight of it. When she'd been a child, the owner of the local grocery store had had a similar bell and the sound of it immediately reminded her of her childhood.

"Can I help you?" a wavering voice asked her.

"Hello?" Kris peered through the mass of blooms that filled the small front area of the shop, trying to search out the owner of the frail voice.

"What can I do for you?"

Kris smiled as an elderly lady with long white hair appeared from amid the rows of flowers.

"I was out at the memorial," she explained, and gestured back over her shoulder. "And I noticed the bouquet of flowers that was there. I was just wondering if you knew who ordered them?"

The elderly woman smiled. "There's a fresh bunch out there every week," she explained proudly. "Regular as clockwork."

"Do you know who orders them?"

The woman tilted her head to one side. "Maybe I do. What's it to you?"

Kris gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm looking into the events of that evening and I wondered just who it was who remembered those who died so many years on."

There was the shake of a head and another smile from the woman. "Even if your accent didn't tell me that you weren't a local, then that phrase alone would have been enough to tell me. A place this small doesn't quickly forget an incident that big."

"Were you here when it happened?"

"You seem awful eager to talk about something so distressing," the woman noted. "You looking to try and turn it into some sort of story?"

Kris smiled. "What makes you say that?"

The elderly woman turned her attention to the flowers that were arranged in tall black buckets to her left. "In my experience, folks only come here asking about the crash for one reason, and that reason usually has to do with books." She looked up from her work and fixed Kris with a firm stare. "I'm not looking to be misquoted at my age," she warned. "We don't need anyone else poking about in the past and disturbing the memories of those who lost their lives."

Kris was immediately on full alert. "Someone's been here recently have they? Asking questions?"

"Folks are always here asking questions," she replied a little testily." Some know how to ease their way to information though. Some are bought up with a little respect for their elders."

The woman glanced meaningfully at the plants and flowers around her. Kris sighed inwardly. She wondered just how many plants she'd have to buy to get all the information she wanted

* * *

"Is this seat taken?"

Carl Douglas did his best to ignore the woman's voice, in much the same way he'd been trying to ignore the shadow that had moments before fallen across the table he was sat at. He stabbed at his food with his fork. He wasn't in the mood for company. All he wanted to do was enjoy a quiet lunch and go through his notes. His mind was pre-occupied with the irritating pushy brunette from earlier. She'd indicated that she was Sullivan's niece, but nothing in his research on the man had indicated that he was particularly close to his family. He wanted to get the lowdown on her as soon as was possible. He pushed the forkful of food into his mouth and with his free hand, turned the page of his notebook.

"Excuse me..." The woman, whoever she was was persistent. Carl did his best to tune her out. So far he'd had a run-in with one of Sullivan's relatives, the waitress who'd taken his order had been sour-faced with a temper to match, and now it looked as though he was about to complete the set of three disagreeable women.

The woman didn't appear to be taking the hint. The shadow remained across the table, her voice once again intruding on his concentration.

"I'm sorry, but I'm sure there's room for someone else at the table," she persisted.

Carl raised his head and glanced around at the half-empty diner. "Lady, there are any number of empty tables... Why don't you go and sit at one of them?" He gestured with his fork towards a table on the other side of the diner. "There's plenty of space over there lady, and you won't have anyone there to cramp your style."

The shadow remained where it was, and sighing heavily, Carl finally turned his attention towards the woman, prepared to give her a piece of his mind. The abuse died in his throat, and he coughed nervously instead.

Kelly smiled widely at him. "I'm sorry," she apologised. "You'll think me terribly old-fashioned, but I just hate eating alone." She gave a small shrug of her shoulders. "I promise that you won't even know I'm here."

Carl was on his feet in seconds, his notes spilling to the floor in his haste to apologise. "Please, have a seat. Have my seat..."

Kelly smiled at his frantic attempts to make it up to her. "Please, don't go to any trouble."

Carl raised his hands. "It's no trouble, no trouble at all."

Kelly waited for a few moments until Carl had managed to restore relative calm to the table, and then took a seat opposite him, placing the tray she was holding down in the space that he'd managed to clear.

"You're very kind," she told him softly.

She managed to mask a smile as she saw him blush.

"It's nothing," he stammered, frantically pulling the notes in front of him back into some sort of order. "It's not every day that a beaut..." he froze, realising that he was potentially about to embarrass himself. "...a lady...lady like yourself asks to sit at my table."

Kelly smiled again and bowed her head slightly with thanks. "It's not every day I meet a chivalrous gentleman who's willing to help me out." She beckoned him to move a little closer. "I'm afraid I do have a little bit of an ulterior motive."

"Oh" Carl straightened up.

"Don't worry," she placed a hand over his. "This won't get you into any sort of trouble." She looked over her shoulder nervously. "I have this co-worker ... Nice enough man, just not one who's learnt to take a hint." The story rolled off her tongue with ease. It was a ploy they'd used a number of times in the past. Bosley would be in through the doors in a minute or two, all ready to play the over-eager co-worker and she'd call upon the good nature of the man she was with to pretend to be her lunch date. It was a hustle that usually bore fruit. She watched as Carl's eyes darted eagerly towards the door and she allowed herself a small smile. It looked as though the hustle was on.

"I'm sorry," she apologised. "I don't even know your name."

Carl wiped his hands on his jeans before holding his right one out. "Carl ... Carl Douglas."

Kelly smiled warmly and accepted the offered hand. "And I'm Kelly."

"Pleased to meet you Kelly," Carl told her honestly.

Kelly drew her hand back and then placed her napkin on her lap. As soon as Bosley had been in and played the heavy... she could start getting a little more information out of Carl Douglas. It was quicker than waiting for Charlie to instigate a search.

* * *

The high metal fence that enclosed the land to her right was topped with rolls of barbed wire. It stretched out as far as the eye could see. Kris knew without checking her map that it was the boundary of the army base. There were a scattering of low, single storey buildings on the other side of the fence, scrubland encroaching onto the once regimented roadways. Whatever it might once have been, the base was now in a state of decline. Rabbits bounded across the end of the sun-baked runway that she was now coming up on, and it looked as though nothing had flown in and out of the place in years. She'd tried to gather a little history about the service life of the base, but had had precious little luck. It was a supply and storage base with an ever-changing rotation of personnel; that was about all that she'd managed to uncover. It was, she reflected, almost as bad as no information at all.

From the heat haze in front of her she noticed a bright splash of colour; it was the first thing she'd seen in miles that wasn't dull scrubland or army grey. As she drew closer, the colour revealed itself to be an enclosure of brightly painted tents. There was no barbed wire surrounding them, simply sheets stretched out between trees; slogans in vivid red paint daubed across them.

She slowed the car, looking to see if anyone was about. This had to be the protesters that the general had mentioned. There were no obvious signs of life, but Kris pulled to the side of the road and killed the engine.

She stepped from the car and slammed the door behind her; hoping that the noise would attract some attention from the otherwise abandoned looking tents. Nothing stirred. She pulled her sunglasses down from the top of her head and picked her way carefully across the uneven ground.

"Can I help you?"

Kris jumped as she heard the question from behind. She spun round; cursing inwardly that she'd not heard the man's approach. He was tall with collar length brown hair, his eyes hidden behind thick black sunglasses. His arms were folded across his chest and he looked less than pleased to see her.

She thrust a hand in his direction and plastered a smile on her face. "Hi! I was just passing, and saw the signs." She gestured back over her shoulder in the direction of the painted sheets.

The man made no move to shake the offered hand. He stared down at her, barely disguising his impatience. "And where precisely were you going to be 'just passing'? There's not a whole lot around here to just pass!"

The smile faltered momentarily as Kris tried to work out the best angle to take. The man didn't give her a chance to explain.

"If you're one of those journalist types looking for a story, you can just get back in your car and get out of here. We're not some two-bit roadside attraction."

Kris held up her hands. "Hey, don't get me wrong. I'm not here to cause trouble. I saw the signs... I just wanted to know a little more."

The man regarded her for a few more seconds before his posture changed and he slowly unfolded his arms. "Sorry," he told her gruffly. "Get a lot of folks coming out here, wanting to make something out of nothing."

"Tell the truth," she read the message written on the nearest banner. "Admit involvement. What's the story?"

The man's eyebrows rose from behind his dark shades. "You telling me that you don't know? You telling me that you came out all this way and you don't know why we're here?"

Kris realised that she had taken the wrong tack. The man was right. There was no reason for anyone to be out this way if they weren't intending on visiting the camp. There was nothing else in the area. The road completed a circuit of the base and that was about it. She hoped that she hadn't completely over-stepped the mark.

She sought for a way to get the conversation back on track, but once again the man beat her to the punch.

"So what is it? You come down here looking for an anniversary story? Come here and think that we'll be too stupid to work out what you're up to? Go on, get back in your car and go peddle your story in town."

There was no getting the man back on side, she'd misjudged the situation and blown the only chance she'd had to talk to the small group. "I'm sorry," she told him honestly. "I just wanted to find out what kept the group out here after all this time. No-one mentions Ward anymore when they mention the crash and yet you are still out here; still campaigning. I just wanted to know what keeps you going."

"What keeps us going? What keeps us going? They truth keeps us going. The truth that the CIA arranged the crash that killed Ward. The truth that they recruited Sullivan to do the dirty work for them. The truth that the CIA are still protecting him after all this time. The truth that they are lying about what they do in that base now. Supply depot huh! Who needs barbed wire around a supply depot? There's ordinance in there. Stuff that they don't want us to know about. Stuff that could reduce this entire state to nothing more than a dustbowl."

Kris backed slowly away from the man as his voice began to rise. He was on a roll now. She heard the sound of movement behind her and realised that his shouting had roused other members of the settlement. She had the sneaking suspicion that they were all as unhinged as he was.

She edged round to the left, trying to work out the best line back to the rental car.

"Did they send you?" The man's next words were accusing, angry. Kris hastily took another step away from him. "They did, didn't they? What was it? Hoping that we'd let you into the group and you could destroy us from within?"

Kris risked a glance out of the corner of her eye and saw the small group of angry looking people that were starting to close in on her position.

"You really have the wrong idea," she tried again to convince him that she wasn't looking for trouble.

"Get back in your car and go and tell your pay masters that we're not that easily won over."

The man's long strides were shortening the distance between them. Kris did her best to keep her cool.

"Tell your CIA bosses that we're going to stay here until they admit the truth."

Kris wrenched at the door handle of the car, pleased that she'd not bothered to lock the door. She hurriedly got behind the wheel and twisted the key in the ignition. The only thing she wanted to do at the moment was get as much distance between herself and the small encampment as she could. She was relieved when the engine fired into life. Moments later she heard the pounding of fists on her window. She refused to turn and acknowledge the man.

"Tell your agency bosses that we won't be silenced." She heard him yell. "We'll make them tell the truth one way or the other."

Shifting into gear, she pushed her foot down on the accelerator and aimed the car back onto the roadway. She heard the fists banging on the roof of the car, and the raised voices of others as they joined in the protest.

Dust and gravel span out from beneath the wheels as she pulled the car back onto the road. There were shouts from the campaigners, but Kris kept her energies focussed on the road ahead. Moments later she was pulling away from the camp and away from the noise; her heart hammering inside her chest. General Warner had told her that the group was harmless. When she saw him next she was going to make sure that he upgraded their threat status.


	5. Chapter 5

Sabrina let out a heavy sigh and closed the file she'd been trying to read. She'd gotten back to the apartment an hour earlier, and had tried to calm her fraying temper by looking through some of the crash documentation that Bosley had managed to lay his hands on. She found however that she couldn't concentrate on it. Every time she tried her mind would wander back to the conversation that she'd had with Henry. She should have handled things differently, should have tried another way. She pushed the file from her lap. There was no point in going over and over the matter; it wasn't going to change anything.

She had to confess that she wasn't looking forward to the conversation with Charlie. He'd hoped that her own army background would stand her in good stead, and yet that had been the one subject that she couldn't bring herself to mention.

She raised her head as she heard the front door open. It had to be Kelly. Bosley was at the base talking with Henry's superiors and Kris had to be in Menzies already. She called out in greeting to her friend as she climbed to her feet and made her way over to the kitchen.

"Did you find out anything about the creep who's been following Sullivan around like a bad smell?"

"Sure did." Kelly dropped her bag by the door and then kicked off her shoes. She accepted the offer of a drink from Sabrina and took a seat at the table. "His name's Carl Douglas and I'm meeting up with him this evening."

Sabrina raised her eyebrows. "Rather you than me."

"Hey," Kelly chided her friend. "He's not that bad."

Sabrina let out an exclamation. "The man's an idiot."

"I think you're judging him too harshly," Kelly reprimanded her.

Sabrina rolled her eyes as she headed back to the table and handed Kelly a drink. "Kelly, the guy sits in his car all day following Henry Sullivan around like some deranged stalker. I'd call that more than a little weird."

Kelly took a sip of her drink and remained quiet. There was little point in trying to persuade Sabrina to change her attitude at this point. Her friend was nothing if not a little stubborn at times. She hastily tried to move the subject on. "So how are things with you and our Mr Sullivan?"

Sabrina paused before answering. "Not great to be honest. He doesn't want me there, and I think we're going to have to change the way that we deal with things." She paused and then placed her own drink on the table. "Scratch that. The truth is that I blew it. Sullivan all but ordered me out of the place." She forced a smile onto her face. "Seems that Charlie didn't sort the team out right this time."

Kelly shook her head. "General Warner told us that Henry wouldn't necessarily welcome the attention. So you both had a rough day. Isn't there a chance that this can all be sorted out in the morning?"

Sabrina shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe. I'm still not certain that I'm the right person to deal with Sullivan. Perhaps Bosley needs to pick up this one. He's always complaining that we don't give him anything good to do."

Kelly looked at her friend over the top of her glass. There was something that she wasn't saying. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she knew that Sabrina was keeping something back. "Are you ok?"

"Fine. It's a personality clash. It's not the first time, and I'm sure that it won't be the last."

"That wasn't what I was getting at." Kelly sought for the right thing to say. "You just seem a little out of sorts, that's all."

Sabrina shrugged the concern off. "Maybe I just need a break." She met her friend's concerned gaze. "I was supposed to be spending time with my dad this weekend."

"I'd forgotten," Kelly admitted.

"Seems Charlie did as well." Sabrina's reply was sharp. She paused and then rubbed her eyes. "Sorry. I think I'm just annoyed with myself for messing things up with Sullivan."

Kelly noted the way that Sabrina seemed keen to change the subject. She wouldn't press the issue now, but later... maybe later she'd have to be a little more persistent. She pushed the thought aside and set the glass down on the table.

"I actually spent a very pleasant lunch with Douglas," she admitted. "Once Bos had finished with the over-eager work colleague shtick." She shook her head. "I think I need to have a quiet word with him about that. He's really starting to build his part."

Sabrina smiled. "You noticed that too huh? I thought it was just me. He quoted lines of poetry last time we used the set up," she closed her eyes at the memory. "It wasn't even anything decent. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was something he'd written himself."

Kelly struggled to suppress a laugh. "Well today he was threatening to serenade me. If he keeps this up someone's going to realise that it's a put up job."

Sabrina nodded, trying and failing to stop the smile that reached her eyes. "Someone really needs to have a word with him."

Kelly nodded. "Maybe after the next time Kris has to use the cover?"

Sabrina forced herself to look serious. "Good idea ... wouldn't want her to feel as though she'd missed out."

The two dissolved into laughter, and Kelly was relieved to see the way that Sabrina finally seemed to relax.

* * *

Henry unclipped the leash from Missy's collar and watched as the dog bounded off towards the front door of the apartment. He tried to ignore the dull ache from his knees and set about searching for his keys as he made his way down the corridor. He'd hoped that the walk would lift the weight of guilt that had settled around his shoulders, but it was still there; gnawing away at him. He'd been rude; he knew that, but if there was one thing he couldn't stand it was people butting into his life where they had no business being. He'd apologise for snapping at her when he saw her again... if he saw her again. The real source of the irritation was still eating away at him. No-one had consulted him; no-one had asked if he wanted someone looking out for him. He was more than capable of looking after his own affairs.

"Hey there!"

A shout from his left drew his attention, and he became aware of one of his neighbours. He'd never had much to do with them; preferred to keep himself to himself, but as the months had gone by he'd found that he was starting to acknowledge them in passing. He smiled at the woman who'd called out to him, berating himself for not being able to remember her name.

"You bump into the guy on your way in?"

"I'm sorry?" Henry was at something of a loss.

His neighbour gestured back towards the elevator. "Guy was just here looking for you," she explained. "Tall man, thirty-something, short black hair." She winked at Henry. "If he's single, you could give him my number."

"He was looking for me?"

A slight frown appeared on the woman's face. "He didn't say much. But yeah, said that you were expecting him."

Henry's gaze shifted down the corridor towards his own front door. Missy was looking at him with a baleful expression.

"This man...did he say what he wanted?"

The woman shrugged her shoulders. "Just said that you were expecting him and that he was sorry it had taken him fifteen years to catch up with you."

Henry stiffened as he heard her words, her voice becoming nothing more than a wall of white noise. He cut across her chatter with a gruff apology and hurried on his way.

He could feel his heart rate quicken as he neared his own door; his eyes darting left and right looking out for anything that might be out of place.

There was nothing obvious; no paint on the door; no sign that anyone had tampered with the lock. Perhaps the presence of the neighbour had been enough to send the man away before he'd had a chance to do anything.

He reached out cautiously and tried the door; it was still locked. He fumbled in his pocket for his keys and took a few attempts to fit them into the lock.

The door opened silently and revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Missy pushed past him and made her way towards the kitchen and her water bowl. Henry wanted to call her back, but remained on the doorstep, straining to hear any other sounds coming from within his apartment.

After what seemed like an age he allowed himself to relax. There was no-one there. The whole thing was probably just him over reacting. There was no reason to suspect that the man had anything to do with the childish pranks of the past few weeks. He stepped over the threshold and into the cool of the hallway, closing the door behind him.

He muttered quietly to himself as he made his way towards the living room. Hadn't he been the one complaining that not everything in his life was connected to the crash? Paranoia was starting to get a hold of him, and he wasn't about to put up with it.

He turned the corner and his eyes were immediately drawn to the tableau in front of him. A rope hung from the main light fitting in the room; a pigeon was hanging from the noose at the end of the rope; its neck obviously broken. A sheet of paper had been nailed onto the dead bird, the words on it cut from the newspaper.

Henry backed away from the doorway, struggling to keep control of his emotions. He made his way back down the hallway, his hands reaching out to the wall to guide him back.

The piercing trill of the phone shattered the silence; someone had turned the ringer up to maximum volume. Henry clasped his hands to his head and backed further away towards the door, praying that the ringing would stop. It didn't. The phone kept up its persistent alarm.

Missy began to bark as the phone remained unanswered, adding to the growing level of noise. Henry backed up to the front door, reaching behind him for the handle. It was wet. He drew his hand away immediately, bringing it back in front of him. It was coated in blood.

The phone continued to ring, and Henry started towards it; knowing that the only way to silence it was to answer it. He snatched at the receiver and brought it smartly up to his ear.

There was no-one there. Nothing but deafening silence reached his ears.

* * *

Carl lifted the black and white print out of the stop bath and dipped it carefully into the fixer. Lifting the plastic tongs from where they were looped over the side of the tray, he gently agitated the sheet, making sure that it was completely immersed. He set the timer and then waited, somewhat impatiently, for the chemicals to do their job.

When the timer sounded its alarm, he immediately silenced it and lifted the print from the tray, hanging it up on the drying line with a small peg. He looked closely at the woman who was framed within the shot. Her mouth was set in a firm line and she seemed to be staring directly down the lens. He'd not done much research on Sullivan's family, but now he was going to have to change that. She'd said that she was Sullivan's niece. He had no reason to disbelieve her, but there was no harm in checking out the validity of the information – after all, it was his job to investigate.

He stood back from the line where the prints were drying and wiped his hands on his jeans before lifting the receiver of the phone. He punched in a number and waited for the gruff voice at the other end to answer.

"Tony... I got a favour...This one will pay; I promise you. I need you to do a little bit of work for me."


	6. Chapter 6

**_Sorry for the delay, and thanks for your patience and reviews. It seems to be the day for updates...I'll try and catch up with everyone in the morning._**

* * *

Kris pulled open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the bar. She could hear the music from a jukebox playing quietly in one corner, and the sounds of a game of pool coming from another. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the gloom, before she could actually see what was taking place.

The air inside the bar was cool compared with the heat from outside, but the air conditioning did little to lift the pall of smoke from the air. Dust motes hung suspended in the fug of smoke, and Kris watched them as they danced across the shafts of light that broke through the gaps in the shuttered windows.

This was a locals bar; from the information that the clerk at the motel had given her as she checked in it was now the only bar in town. Even though it was late afternoon the place was half-full; the afternoon drinkers having their final beers before relinquishing the place to the evening crowd.

Trying not to feel self-conscious about the stares she knew she was on the receiving end of, she made her way over to the bar.

Only one of the stools that lined the length of the bar was occupied. The occupant was a grizzled looking man, who looked as though he'd long ago given up the battle with his waistline. He was sat slouched on the bar stool, slowly turning the half-empty glass of beer that sat in front of him. He was watched with amusement by the hawkeyed barman who, despite his age, looked as though he was more than capable of handling any fight that broke out.

The barman turned to regard her as she approached. "You got any I.D on you?" he drawled as she pulled up a stool.

"I'm sorry?" Kris patted at the back of her neck with a napkin, trying to get rid of the gritty feeling of the heat-baked street outside.

"I.D," the man repeated. "Driver's licence, passport ... You know... identification."

"I'm sure the lady knows what you mean by I.D," the man at the next stool admonished. "I'm sure she's just a little surprised at you asking to see it." The old man glanced in Kris' direction and winked. "Don't you worry miss, Gerry here asks everyone for I.D. Don't matter how long you known him, or how long he's been serving you your beer ... he always asks..." he narrowed his eyes. "Always!"

The barman gave a helpless half-shrug of his shoulders and wiped his hands on the bar towel that was slung over one shoulder. "Hey now, you can't go blaming that on me. If this town wasn't home to such a fussy old sheriff, I wouldn't have these problems." He held out one freshly wiped hand to Kris. "Gerry Cochran ma'am. Welcome to Hogan's."

Kris took the offered hand and shot the barman a wide smile. "Thank you." She looked around with an air of feigned concern. "You really need to see some I.D?"

Gerry glanced at the man who'd first spoken and arched an eyebrow in his direction. "Bob; what do you say?"

Bob scratched at the stubble on his chin. "I reckon it'll be fine," he finally drawled. "So long as you're not planning to cause any trouble."

Realisation dawned on Kris and she grinned. "Sheriff … right?" she smiled at the man on the bar stool next to her.

"Right," Bob replied, holding a hand out in her direction. "Bob Matthews. And you must be Miss Munroe; in town to find out what she can about the crash."

He took in the look of confusion on Kris' face and smiled widely. "There are precious few secrets in a one-horse town like this… certainly not when you make Gladys Murison your first port of call." He leant towards her as though imparting a great secret. "She's not the most discreet of individuals when it comes to gossip."

Kris nodded in understanding. "Ahh, she likes to share the news she receives."

There was a loud laugh from Gerry behind the bar. "That's one way of putting it, that's for sure. She was on the phone here whilst the bell above the door was still ringing as you left." He pulled the bar towel from his shoulder. "With the time that it took you to get here I can only assume that you went to see the crazies at the encampment on your drive in?"

Kris shook her head in disbelief. "Am I really that predictable?"

Gerry winked at her. "It's what all visitors do. Did Mike try and convert you to the cause?"

"Tall man, dark shades?" Kris queried.

Gerry nodded. "That's him. He's a one man walking advertisement for psychiatric care if you ask me." He wiped a towel along the polished top of the bar. "What can I get you miss?"

Kris glanced at the range of drinks behind the bar as she settled herself on a stool. There wasn't much to choose from. She shot a smile at Gerry. "A beer would be fine. Thanks." She watched as the man busied himself at the pump. "You get many people in here asking for information about the crash?"

Gerry shrugged his shoulders. "Not many. Every now and again someone decides that the time is right to bring the whole sorry affair up again. Most folks round here would be happy if the matter was just left to rest."

Kris held up her hands. "I'm sorry," she apologised. "I'm not wanting to bring up too many bad memories. Why do you think so many people are still interested in the crash?"

Gerry shrugged his shoulders again. "Well Ma'am, if I knew that, I reckon I wouldn't still be standing here now and pulling beers." He placed the frosted glass of cold beer down on the bar in front of her. "Reckon I'd be off somewhere making some money out of it myself."

Bob smiled. "He's been saying that for years mind. For all the talking that folks round here like to do, there's not a whole lot they know."

Kris frowned. "Why is that?"

"Army MPs moved in and took over the whole situation. They were mighty keen to look after the whole affair themselves."

Kris took a sip of her beer; it's cold crisp taste surprisingly pleasant. "That unusual?"

Bob shook his head. "Not really. Back in those days the town was always full of army boys." He turned around and looked at the slowly emptying bar. "I know there's precious little evidence of them in here now, but this place used to be full of them. They used to help support two other bars in this town until the army moved away the bulk of the work that they used to do here." He tapped his nose. "No-one would rightly tell us what it was they did, but those boys could sure put a beer away."

"Did they often get themselves into trouble?"

Bob scratched at his chin. "Sometimes. Local kids would want to take them on – see if they measured up to the G.I's. After a few beers the were only too keen to accept the challenge." He let out a wry smile. "Those boys saved me a lot of work. Knocked so many local hoodlums into shape that there was little left for me to clear up."

Bob drained his glass and then turned to regard Kris. "Gladys said that you were here to look into the matter yourself. No offence ma'am, but you don't look much like the journalist types we usually get around here."

Kris shot a winning smile in his direction. "Before you get to be the name in the by-line, you have to do the legwork." The smile faltered. "That's where I am at the moment. A more senior colleague wants some colour to embellish the story that he's got prepped for the anniversary of the crash." She shrugged her shoulders. "He's heard rumour that someone's stirring up the CIA involvement story again. Wants the views of the locals around here as to what they make of it."

Bob threw his head back and laughed. "They still pedalling that one, are they?" He pulled the ball cap free and scratched the top of his head. "Don't rightly know where that story came from. All I know is that it's a pile of..." he tailed off and placed the cap back on his head without completing the sentence. "Apologies ma'am."

Kris raised her hands to show that no offence had been taken. "Having met the group camped out by the base I can see why people don't take them seriously. Do they really believe that the crash was orchestrated by the CIA?"

"Ma'am they'd believe that Mickey Mouse killed Kennedy if someone told them the CIA had a file on it somewhere."

Kris smiled. "Ahh, right. So am I wasting my time looking for a story?"

"You're certainly wasting your time talking to them. Most of them think that aliens did it. I could tell you what happened, but the story is a long one," Bob warned. "The sort of story that's best told over a meal."

"I can recommend you a good place," Gerry chipped in, making no apology for listening in to the conversation. "Good prices... and probably the best steaks in town."

Kris glanced in Bob's direction and saw the way that the old man rolled his eyes. She glanced back around the bar and caught sight of the laminated menus that were placed on every table.

"Don't tell me," she said with a smile. "These are the only steaks in town!"

Gerry scratched at his chin. "There might be something in that," he admitted. "But I can assure you that they're good."

Kris couldn't help but laugh at the double act in front of her. "It's been a long day," she told them both. "And a long day deserves a good meal at the end of it." She glanced down at her crumpled clothing. "But I do need to freshen up first."

Bob slid somewhat ungracefully down off the bar stool, and grabbed his wallet from the bar. "How about eight o'clock ma'am. Back here?"

"That sounds perfect." She winked at Bob and then turned to Gerry. "That is if there's going to be room at the inn for us?"

* * *

"So what do you think?"

Sabrina looked up as Kelly re-entered the room. She watched as her friend gave a slow turn.

"I'd say you were trying to quietly impress your dinner date," Sabrina replied diplomatically.

Kelly perched on the edge of the sofa, her expression one of concern. "You think I'm trying too hard?"

Sabrina smiled. "No. But you may be a little too sophisticated for someone like Douglas. He didn't strike me as the kind to spend a whole lot on dinner."

Kelly thought about it for a moment, trying to trade off Sabrina's already voiced opinion of the man with her last remark. "You may be right," she finally conceded. "Perhaps I should save this little number for the second date." She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "I still have time to change."

She pulled a face as though noticing the files that Sabrina was surrounded with for the first time. "Are you planning to spend the entire evening with those?"

"Well not all of us have dates," Sabrina teased. "I can't go back to Sullivan's so I thought it made sense to try and get a little background reading done."

"I thought you knew all about the crash?

"I know about Henry's role in it." She paused. "I think maybe he has become somehow bigger than the event itself." She gestured to the small pile of files next to her. "I think this is the first time that I ever found out anything about those men who died in the crash."

Sabrina stared down at the photograph that was pinned to the file she was reading. It showed a group of uniformed men lined up in front of an aircraft. Henry was among the men, as were those who had lost their lives. "I think he's still haunted by that night," she finally admitted. "I think that he just wants to escape from it, and thinks that ignoring the event will mean that they'll leave him alone."

She unclipped the photograph and handed it to Kelly. "They were close. He was ground crew for the plane that went down, and they were flight crew. Their lives were all intertwined. Lived and worked beside each other." She shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I kind of understand why he doesn't want to talk about the loss of close friends to strangers."

"Maybe it's that silence that attracts people like Carl Douglas," Kelly suggested. "Brought up on a diet of heroes being brave and strong, maybe he just doesn't 'get' why someone like Henry chooses to remain in the shadows. Sees intrigue where there is nothing more than a man mourning the loss of his friends."

Sabrina grudgingly agreed that maybe Kelly had a point. "If he's writing a book like he says he is then I don't understand why he thinks that he's going to get anywhere with the sort of approach that he's trying."

Kelly looked at the clock again. "If I don't get a move on, then I'm never going to stand a chance of finding out the answer to that question." She rose from her place on the edge of the sofa and handed the photograph back to her friend. "Promise me that you won't spend all night reading those files?" she pleaded.

"I'll take a break," Sabrina promised.

Kelly reached the doorway of her room and then turned back to look at her friend. One look at the concentration on her face told her that Sabrina had no intention of keeping her word.


	7. Chapter 7

Sabrina yawned and closed the file she'd been trying to read. She was having the same problems concentrating as earlier. The words on the page were starting to blur and she knew that she wasn't taking any of the information in. She placed the file down on the table and then stretched out before rising to her feet.

She rubbed a hand across her tired eyes as she crossed the room to stare out of the window. She wondered just what was going on with Henry Sullivan. There was something that he wasn't telling her. He'd given her a glimpse behind the mask when he'd thrust the letters in front of her. He was certainly angry at the world and yet seemed to want to do nothing more than hide from it. She wondered if he even realised the way that others revered him. Her father had certainly always spoken about him in glowing terms.

She frowned as she thought about the date, and the fact that she'd let her father down. She knew how disappointed he was that she wasn't home. She'd called him as soon as Charlie had accepted the case. He'd tried to hide his emotions, but the tone of his voice had given him away. It would be the first time since training at the academy that she'd not made the journey to see him. She'd told him that the case concerned Henry, but she'd been careful not to tell him where she was going to be staying. He'd tried to hide his disappointment by regaling her with more stories about the man, but she knew that his bravado was just for show. She promised herself that she'd try and make it up to him somehow. She glanced up at the clock on the wall and then turned to face the stack of files. Her own problems would have to wait. For the moment it was Henry Sullivan who needed her full attention.

* * *

Kelly smiled across the table at Carl. He was turning out to be a lot different than she'd expected. He'd been the perfect gentleman the entire evening, listening intently to everything she said and keeping the tone of the conversation on a very pleasant level despite the subject matter. It had become obvious after only a few minutes that he was completely absorbed in the book that he was writing. He was making an effort not to let it dominate the evening, but Kelly did her best to keep the conversation turning back towards the subject.

He caught her studying him and smiled. "What is it? I have spinach in my teeth?"

She smiled in return. "No. I'm just wondering how we've managed to get this far into the evening without me finding out anything about you."

Carl sat back in his chair and fixed her with a firm gaze. "What do you want to know?" He looked at her uncertain expression. "Seriously, ask away. I'm afraid you'll be rather bored by the answers though."

"Where were you born?"

Carl's eyes danced with mischief. "Ahh, starting with the deceptively easy ones," he teased. "I was born in the entirely unremarkable town of Oakland in Maine. It was so unremarkable in fact that they accidentally missed it off of a map of the state and no one noticed for two years."

Kelly laughed. "You're kidding?"

Carl shrugged. "You ever heard of Oakland?"

"No."

"Neither had the map makers!" He smiled warmly at her. "Your turn. I'm guessing you're from the south….right?"

"Right," Kelly nodded. "Little place in Texas. Equally as forgettable as Oakland."

Carl sat back in his seat and laced his fingers together. "Ahh... let me guess big family? Lots of siblings?"

Kelly shook her head and took a sip of her wine. "No family. Just me."

"Just you and the folks, huh?"

Kelly shook her head again. "Raised by the nuns at the local orphanage."

"I'm sorry," Carl was quick to apologise, leaning forward and covering her hand with one of his own. "Me and my big mouth."

Kelly smiled and waved the apology away. "It's okay," she told him. "You weren't to know, and anyway you can't miss what you never had."

He eyed her curiously. "You really believe that?"

Kelly shrugged her shoulders and toyed with the wine glass, focussing all her attention on it. "Spent too many years as a kid hoping for the impossible to happen. I don't need to do that anymore." She raised her head and smiled at him. "I'm a firm believer that you make your own family in this world."

"And you've made yours?"

Kelly nodded and took another sip of wine. "To an extent."

Carl raised an eyebrow questioningly. "And is this family of yours complete yet?"

Kelly smiled again. "Not yet. I think it's still got a little more growing to do."

"A woman with plans, I like that...I think."

"You only think?"

"That depends," Carl admitted. "On whether I'm about to be surprised by a husband appearing on the scene, wanting to know what I'm doing out dining with his wife." He glanced around. "Or worse still, the re-appearance of your admirer from earlier. He strikes me as the persistent type."

Kelly smiled. "No husband," she assured him. "And I think you did just enough to ensure that my colleague never bothers me again." She leant across the table conspiratorially. "He went out of his way to avoid me this afternoon. That's the first peaceful afternoon I've had in a long time."

Carl toyed nervously with his wine glass for a few moments. "Perhaps you should make sure that your colleague really does have the message," he suggested. He noted the puzzled expression on Kelly's face. "Would lunch with me tomorrow help at all?"

The smile reappeared on her face and Carl relaxed.

"Lunch would be lovely," Kelly told him. "Give me a chance to find out a little more about you."

* * *

The driver of the Chevy shifted in his seat as the door to the restaurant opened and the couple emerged. He'd been expecting them to leave for over an hour; they had made a simple meal last an eternity. He noted with frustration that the man was carrying a tan briefcase. It had to contain the information that he was after. After checking that the couple had arrived at the restaurant, he had headed over to Douglas' apartment and carried out a thorough search. The man's book was a source of irritation to his boss and he demanded to know every detail that had been unearthed. There was little information that he could report back, but he had noted the photographs that were hanging from a line in the small dark room. He didn't recognise the woman, but he'd studied her carefully. If she was to play a part in developments then he needed to know who she was.

His attention was drawn back to the departing couple as they separated for the night. He noted with interest that the woman was driving the same car that he'd spotted outside Sullivan's apartment. As the car shifted into gear and pulled away from the lot, he followed it. His boss was going to want to know who she was, and the first thing to establish was where she was staying. Keeping back a discreet distance he tailed her as she headed across town.

* * *

"Waiting up for me?" Kelly teased as she slipped quietly into the apartment. She'd fully expected Sabrina to have called it a night, but her colleague was still curled up on the sofa with her head buried in one of the crash investigation files.

"Hey!" Bri raised her head from the page she was reading, and regarded her friend for a few moments. "How was the evening with Mr Sensitive?"

"It was actually very nice." Kelly caught the look of disbelief that ghosted across her friend's face. "Really; he was the perfect gentleman."

She dropped her purse down onto the coffee table and sank down onto a chair, kicking off her shoes and stretching out.

Sabrina marked her place in her file and dropped it down on the sofa. "You want coffee?"

"You read my mind." Kelly closed her eyes and gently rubbed her tired eyelids.

Bri rose to her feet and headed across the open plan apartment to the kitchen area. She pulled two clean mugs down from the shelf.

"Did Douglas tell you what he was doing, trailing around after Henry Sullivan? Is he our paranoid conspiracy theorist?"

Kelly sighed and slowly opened her eyes. "He **is** writing a book to coincide with the anniversary of the crash, but he didn't mention anything to me about the CIA being involved." She pulled one of the cushions onto her lap and toyed with the braided edges. "Bri, I really think that you've got the wrong idea about him."

"Right!" Sabrina's voice was sceptical as she poured the coffee into the mugs.

"Really!" Kelly was determined to convince her friend that she was in error. "He just wants to be able to tell the full story."

"Hmm," Sabrina commented as she walked back across the apartment and placed a mug down on the table in front of Kelly and retook her own seat. "So he's not just sitting in his car all day long and trailing our client around as though he was nothing more than a common criminal?"

"Bri!"

Sabrina held up a hand. "Sorry, I just don't like him, that's all."

"Point noted," Kelly told her, taking a mouthful of coffee. "I think he could be useful.

He's got a lot of information about the crash and the people involved."

"You think you could get all that out of him without him getting suspicious?"

Kelly shrugged her shoulders. "He seems keen to talk about his work."

"Hmm," Sabrina weighed up her thoughts. "How do you want to play it?"

"He said he's gonna call me in the morning and I guess we'll take it from there." Kelly ran her finger around the top of the mug she was holding. "I think I should tell him that I've got an interest in the case."

Sabrina frowned. "Well don't overplay your hand."

"Don't worry, I'll be careful."

"Ok."

Kelly watched as her friend settled back onto the sofa, the file she'd been reading only minutes earlier completely forgotten. She knew that her friend's mind would now be running through all the possible permutations of why Carl Douglas was writing a book about the crash. Kelly knew full well that although Bri would excuse herself within the hour, it would be several before she finally pushed aside the thoughts of the day and allowed herself to sleep.

She reached for one of the magazines that were piled on the table; not really having an interest in what they contained, but wanting to have something to occupy her hands whilst she thought back over the evening. She had warmed to Carl quickly; he'd had a wide smile and a thoroughly engaging personality. There was a voice in her head that questioned whether the turning on of the charm was simply part of the job for him, but she pushed that thought to one side. Despite Sabrina's misgivings, she felt that she could trust the man. He had certainly seemed committed to unearthing the truth about the night of the crash. He'd not mentioned conspiracy theories, or anything about the involvement of government agencies. If a book was to be written, perhaps it was better that it was this book.

* * *

Carl's pace slowed as he neared his apartment door. A small square of paper was lying discarded on the floor. He bent down and retrieved it and then checked the frame of the door, confirming that it was the one he had left in place.

He took a steadying breath and then tried the door. It was locked. He fished in his pocket for his keys and then let himself silently into his apartment. He flicked on the main light and glanced quickly around to prove to himself that the place was empty. He made his way immediately to the small room that he used as an office.

There wasn't anything he could put his finger on, but he knew that someone had been there. If the paper dislodged from the door hadn't been enough evidence, there was 'something' about the way that everything in his office looked slightly out of place that told him he'd had a visitor.

They were professional, whoever they were. His mind immediately thought of the pushy brunette he'd encountered at Sullivan's apartment. There was something about her that he just didn't trust. It was too soon for his buddy to have any solid answers for him, but he was starting to have the nagging feeling that she was government.

There was no way that he was going to be silenced. Nothing was going to prevent him from finishing his story and once and for all revealing what really happened that night. He thought back to the man who'd originally offered him money for information about Henry Sullivan.

Carl had the feeling that the man didn't play within the law, but he had implied that he'd pay well for information. If his buddy could confirm some details about this woman, then he'd call the number on the card. If she was trying to get in his way, he'd have to see to it that she was no longer in a position to do so.

* * *

Henry stared down at the glass of whisky that he'd been nursing for the last thirty minutes. He was sitting in the dark in his apartment, wishing that sleep would reach him. He'd tried calling it a night but the release wouldn't come. He was on edge; a part of him waiting for the phone to ring. He knew that he wouldn't be able to relax until that happened. He'd cleared away the macabre display that had been left for him. The black bags had gone down the chute and the back of the door had been meticulously cleaned. He had no intention of letting things get to him. He certainly wasn't going to tell anyone about it. It was just some punk kid trying to unnerve him he told himself, and he wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.

Missy was at his feet, her legs twitching as she chased rabbits in her sleep. Henry almost envied her her innocence. He let out a long breath and rose to his feet, heading for the window. He slotted a finger between the slats of the blind and opened them, staring out at the world beyond. There was very little movement on the road below. The journalist's car was gone, and the night time road belonged to the haulage drivers now; their heavy rigs moving unobstructed through the abandoned streets.

A movement somewhere off to his left caught his eye, but there was nothing to be seen.

Henry sighed. It was nights like this when the memories of his friends would haunt him. If he closed his eyes then they would be there before him... not as they were in life, but as he'd found them on the plane. He clamped his free hand over his eyes. If he could have one wish in life; could affect one single event and change it, then the crash would never have happened.

He turned away from the window and noticed the business card that lay on the table. Maybe it was time to finally put the ghosts of the past to rest.


	8. Chapter 8

_Apologies to those with the patience still to be here...I had a much needed holiday. Thanks as always for your support._

* * *

The steak was as good as Gerry had promised it would be. Bob had made an effort to smarten himself up for the meal. Gone was the baseball cap, T-shirt and scruffy jeans. In their place was an old looking suit; the buttons on the jacket looking as though they were straining a little with the pressure they were being put under. It was obvious that it had been a while since Bob had enjoyed the company of someone new – he was at a loss for conversation, and had seemed to sigh with relief when Kris had asked him about football, and his views on what the coming season would bring.

Kris politely thanked Bob as he refilled her wine glass, waiting for him to order another beer for himself, before asking her next question.

"You knew Henry Sullivan?"

Bob nodded and stabbed at the vegetables on his plate with his fork. "Uh huh. Between you and me he wasn't quite the man the media made him out to be."

"In what way?"

Bob chewed thoughtfully for a few seconds. "If I was in trouble, I wouldn't want to rely on Sullivan to save me ... unless of course you had the money to pay him off."

Kris' ears pricked up. This was the first time that anyone had said anything that wasn't complimentary about the man. "Sullivan had money problems?"

Bob nodded. "He was the sort of man who'd get paid on a Friday and blow the whole lot on the same night ...don't know how his wife put up with him."

"So he'd spend all his money in the bar?" Kris guessed.

"If there was a card game, or a dog fight, or anything that he could bet on, then Sullivan would be there." Bob broke off as the waitress returned with a fresh glass of beer. Kris waited impatiently as Bob took a large mouthful. He wiped his hand across the back of his mouth and regarded her. "What was I saying?"

"You were telling me about Henry Sullivan's gambling habits," she prompted.

Bob nodded in acknowledgement. "The army weren't real keen that the information got out," he told her conspiratorially. "They had an image of Sullivan that they were pushing, and they let me know that his betting habits were of no interest to anyone."

"Was he in a lot of debt?"

Bob shrugged his shoulders. "Wouldn't surprise me. Found himself on the end of a beating more than once because of outstanding debt."

"You ever have to bring him in?"

Bob smiled. "Nope. He was the army's problem, not mine." He noted the way that she'd stopped eating and gestured towards her plate with his knife. "Everything ok there for you?"

"What?' Kris was momentarily thrown by the question. She then glanced down at her own half-finished meal. "Everything is fine." She shrugged. "I'm sorry; I guess I was just surprised to hear you talk about Sullivan in that way."

"How so?"

Kris glanced around. "Gladys at the flower shop wasn't keen to talk to me, and most of the other shop owners in town clammed up the moment that I mentioned the crash."

Bob nodded sagely. "That's not surprising really. They're just protecting their investments." He watched as Kris raised an eyebrow. "Local journalist type appeared here a couple of months back. He's paid everyone for exclusive rights to their story. They're all scared that if they talk to anyone else they'll lose the money they were promised."

Kris smiled. "But you're not worried about that?"

She watched as the old man shrugged his shoulders, chewing down another forkful of steak before replying. "One man doesn't own information," he told her sincerely. "No-one should try and put a price on the truth."

"So you're not selling your version of what happened?"

Bob muttered something beneath his breath that Kris didn't catch. Abruptly he placed his cutlery down on his plate and then dabbed at his mouth with his napkin before speaking. "Young man comes into town and turns everyone's head with the money that he's flashing around. He thinks that that's the only way of getting the truth. When I was younger if you wanted the truth you asked somebody."

"...And I take it that this ...this man didn't ask?"

Bob shook his head. "He'd been here two days before he came knocking at my door. Sent him away with a flea in his ear I can tell you." Bob paused and took a long swig of his beer. "Told him that the past wasn't for sale, and that digging around in a man's life wasn't an honourable way of earning a living."

Kris watched as Bob became noticeably agitated. She had a sneaking suspicion that a lot of his anger had to do with the fact that the journalist hadn't come straight to see him. Long in the tooth he may be, but Bob obviously still liked to think of himself as head of the town.

"Did the journalist take your advice?" she asked gently.

Bob nodded. "Headed out that day." He shook his head. "Comes to something when you have to pay a man to hear his story. Back when the crash investigation was going on, the place was crawling with people trying to grab a word with the folks who knew Sullivan. No-one said anything then, no-one should say anything now."

Kris picked up her glass and took a sip of wine, trying to make her next question sound casual. "Were there many folks trying to claim that the government were involved?"

Bob let out a snort of derision. "None of that was going on here. We saw the papers later; saw what they'd been saying." He looked levelly at Kris. "But honestly... the folks here. There was no talk of CIA back then. It was an accident and folks we thought of as neighbours had been killed. They weren't all fine upstanding men like; but they were army...they were trying to do what was right, and then something like that happens to them." Bob shook his head. "It's just not right to go round making up stories about them. Not right at all."

Kris had the feeling that there was more to come and so she remained quiet, her eyes focussed on her glass. Finally Bob sat back in his chair. "So many brave men out there and yet the only one people seem to remember is Sullivan."

"Why do you think that the press picked on Henry to be the hero?"

"It's that damn photograph isn't it. One split-second shot and that's what people see of the whole event. They don't care enough to scratch beyond the surface and find out that he's a regular guy with more than his fair share of problems. It's not right that folks put so much store by a single act."

"You sound as though you don't have any time for him," Kris tried to keep her voice conversational.

Bob shrugged his shoulders. "I only knew the guy who'd come into town and blow all his money on the first bet going. You want to talk to someone who really knew Sullivan then you should probably have a word with his ex-wife."

Kris' ears pricked up with interest. "She lives locally?"

Bob nodded. "She's a local girl. Married Sullivan and thought that she'd get to see the world. As it goes, she's seen nothing but the same four walls for the past fifteen years." Bob nodded knowingly. "Not what I'd call a real love-match if you know what I mean. If Sullivan hadn't proposed when he did I reckon he'd have ended up looking down the business end of a shotgun."

"Ahh," Kris realised what Bob was getting at. She shot him a smile. "How d'you think she'll take me asking her about Sullivan?"

Bob returned his attention to his steak. "I'll give her a call in the morning; let her know that you're on your way. That way you're less likely to get short shrift... but I can't promise that she'll be civil."

The conversation stopped as Gerry arrived at the table, a blue checked dishcloth slung over one arm. "Everything good for you?" he asked with a smile on his face.

Kris placed her own napkin down on the table and sighed contentedly. "I don't think I could eat another mouthful. Great steak Gerry, you were right about this being the best place in town."

Gerry nodded in Bob's direction. "He been filling your head with stories of the past?"

Kris smiled. "He's been charming company."

"Well you be sure to call me over if he doesn't change the subject soon. I swear he only knows one record, and I'm not real certain that it's not scratched!"

Bob shot his friend a look of mock offence. "You make enough trade out of the folks who come round here looking for information."

"Hey, I'm supposed to engage the passing trade; that's how I make money." He turned his attention back to Kris. "Well if you need me to rescue you, just let me know. Drop your napkin on the floor, or ask for more water when the carafe is still half-full and I'll save you from having to hear the end of another long story."

Kris smiled at the easy banter between the two men. "I'm fine," she assured Gerry. "Bob's been a great host."

"You hear that?" Bob chimed in. "Great host."

The corners of Gerry's mouth twitched. "It was you or limited cable channels at the hotel," he brought his friend back down to earth. "Ma'am, if you don't mind me saying, you may want to reconsider how you spend the rest of your time here... unless you like having the same conversation over every meal."

* * *

As the door finally swung closed behind Kris, Gerry turned and headed down to the far end of the bar, lifting the phone from its cradle and waiting for the dialtone. He punched in a number and wasn't unduly surprised when the call was answered on the second ring. "You told me to call you if anyone came sniffing around asking after Sullivan…" He was cut off by the response from the other end. "No, not the journalist…young woman, name of Kris Munroe. Flown in from LA…no, seems to have learnt what she wanted. Said that she was heading back to the airport tomorrow." He paused and listened again to the voice on the other end of the line. "Sheriff Bob seemed to have a lot to say to her … certainly more than he said to that journalist fella. No sir, can be rightly sure exactly what he said…probably letting her sweet smile and big blue eyes get the better of him, the old fool." He paused again. "I'll check that sir and I'll get back to you."

* * *

The receptionist at the hotel had already retired for the night by the time that Kris reached the front desk. She looked around for a bell, not really wanting to wake anyone, but needing someone to give her access to her room. As her eyes scanned the wooden countertop, she spotted a white envelope with her name written on it.

Its bulky shape made it fairly obvious that her room key was contained within. She picked it up and retrieved the key before heading off towards her room. She shook her head; the lack of security reminded her of the holidays she had spent with her aunt and uncle. Their idea of security had amounted to shutting the screen door at night, and they had never understood why a door needed to be locked.

She opened the door to her room and reached for the light. She wanted nothing more than a good night's sleep after the long drive. There was a report to make to the others in the morning, but that was something that she could think about after she'd slept.

"Leave it."

The voice was deep, gruff and Kris instinctively did as she was told. She peered into the gloom, but the drawn curtains made it impossible to make out anything other than a rough shape of a person seated on the room's only chair.

"If you want money, you're out of luck," she tried to get into a conversation with the man, but he wasn't interested.

"This isn't a robbery," he told her curtly. "This is a warning. Get back in your car and get out of town."

Kris stared down at her feet. "It's no wonder this town isn't making money if this is the way you treat tourists!"

"There's no point in raising your voice," the man warned her. "There's no-one else on this floor to hear you. And whilst you're at it, drop the bag from your shoulder. I didn't find a gun among your possessions, so I'm assuming that you're carrying."

The man gestured in her direction, and Kris caught the glint of metal from the gun that he was holding. She did as she was told and then raised her hands. "I'm not looking for trouble."

"From what I hear that's exactly what you've been doing. Your hire car papers list your residence as LA, and the files in your suitcase seem to show a lot of interest in the crash at Menzies. Makes me wonder what a private detective is doing way out here on her own?"

Kris remained silent, not certain where the conversation was going.

"So who hired you?"

"I can't tell you that."

"I'm the one with the gun lady, you can tell me anything."

Kris shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I can't..."

"If you're working for Falcone then you can just get back in your car and get out of here. This town doesn't need any more trouble from him."

"I'm not working for...Falcone; whoever he is. I just want to find out who's been trying to intimidate Henry Sullivan and what actually happened here on the night of the crash."

"You government?" there was a change in the tone of voice.

Kris shook her head. "No. But I'm also not looking to make money out of the truth. I just want to find out what really happened and why someone thinks that there's a story that still needs to be told."

"Get over to that wall." The order was barked out without warning. Kris straightened up; her heart rate increasing at the brusque tone in the man's voice.

"Turnaround and put your hands against the wall," the man ordered again. She heard the hammer on the gun being pulled back. "I won't ask again."

Reluctantly, Kris did as she was told. There was little to be gained by arguing with an armed man.

As soon as her hands were pressed against the cold wall of the building, she heard the sound of someone moving past her. The man's intentions were suddenly clear, but by the time she'd turned around, he was gone. She peered out into the corridor; realising as she did so that he could be lying in wait for her. She was somewhat relieved when a bullet didn't come whistling her way. She scanned ahead for him, but she couldn't spot anyone.

It was pointless trying to follow him. He obviously knew the surrounding area better than she did and he'd be long gone before she reached the front desk. She closed the door to her room and then sank down onto the bed. Her palms were slick with perspiration and her breath was coming in quick uneven gasps.

Instinctively she reached for the phone, but then pulled up short. The only way to get a call out of town was to go through the exchange, and that meant waking up whoever ran the place. That call would be monitored and as a consequence the contents of it discussed over every breakfast table. She looked around at the room; her belongings were still neatly packed within her suitcase, but she knew that they'd been searched and the knowledge made her feel uncomfortable. If the night had been cooler, she would have headed straight out to her car and slept there. As it was, she settled for wedging the chair beneath the door as an extra defence and double-checking the locks on the windows. The intruder, whoever he was, wanted her out of town.

She sat on the bed and drew her knees up to her chest. He wasn't going to come back, she was pretty certain of that, but she knew it would be a couple of hours before she felt relaxed enough to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Apologies for the break...thanks to anyone who has the patience to try and pick this back up again. I had a month off to complete the NaNoWriMo challenge. It looks as though I have some catching up to do._**

**_No problem if interest has waned. I can always just knock this one on the head._**

* * *

Sabrina took a deep breath and clenched her fist, preparing to knock on Henry's door. She'd pulled her car up a block short of Henry's apartment and tried to decide on the best approach to take after the decidedly frosty end to their conversation the previous day. Despite Henry's reticence to talk about the crash, she knew that she was going to have to steer the conversation back towards it. They were never going to get anywhere if Henry persisted in shutting her out. Out of the corner of her eye she'd spotted Carl Douglas. Once again he was parked across the road; his camera trained on her every move. She'd wanted to go over and give him a piece of her mind, but she'd resisted the temptation. Kelly was handling the Douglas problem and she didn't want to muddy the waters.

She steadied her breathing and prepared to knock on the door. As she knuckles came into contact with the wooden door she noticed the hastily washed off red marks. They were faint but they were there. She stood back and was about to try and work out if there was anything more to them than a random pattern when the door was pulled open revealing Henry standing in the doorway. Missy was at his heels, trying to work her way around her owner, her tail thumping against the wall of the corridor.

Henry nodded at her and then looked down at his feet. "You're back then. You best come in."

Sabrina figured that that was the closest she was going to get to an apology from the man and stepped over the threshold as he backed away.

Missy, oblivious to the tension in the air eagerly greeted the visitor and Sabrina was obliged to make a fuss of the dog.

"You want coffee?"

The question was gruff and quiet. Sabrina nodded. "Thanks."

Henry turned and shuffled off in the direction of the kitchen.

Sabrina straightened up as she watched him move off. "Anything happen after I left?"

"Took my dog for a walk and watched some lame detective series on the television."

Sabrina chewed her lip, knowing that he was deliberately avoiding her question. "There were no more phone calls?" she queried. "No other unwanted visitors?"

"You planning on standing in the hallway all day?" Henry asked her pointedly.

Sabrina sighed and made her way down the corridor. "Henry. Please, I need to know that everything's ok."

"Everything is fine," he snapped back. "I am not a child. I do not need mothering. Now do you want this coffee or don't you?"

Sabrina took a deep breath. She had the feeling that it was going to be another long day. She pinched the bridge of her nose. This wasn't what she'd had planned for the weekend and she was sorely tempted to just pack up and go. She stopped herself and tried to shake the mood off. It wasn't Sullivan's fault that her plans had been disrupted, and it certainly wasn't his fault that he was living in the one place that she didn't want to be in right now. She waited until she was certain she'd pushed her emotions down before she followed him into the living room.

* * *

Marian Sullivan looked coldly at Kris. "You ever tried being married to a man who the world and his wife seem to think of as some kind of national saint?"

She paused, as though waiting for Kris to try and answer the impossible question. "Thought not," she grunted as she hefted open the door of the washing machine and dragged the contents out into the waiting basket. "Being a hero doesn't mean that you bring home money to support your family. Being a hero doesn't mean that you actually learn how to pay your way in the world without the support of creditors."

Kris stood awkwardly by and watched as Marian Sullivan pushed the heavy plastic basket over towards the driers. The woman had made it perfectly clear that she didn't want Kris' help, but now just standing there in the otherwise empty Laundromat, Kris felt obliged to offer assistance again.

Her words were met with a black look. "The one thing Henry didn't leave me was helpless," she snapped. "Penniless yes, homeless yes, but helpless... never."

She shoved the wet linen into the dryer and forced a handful of dimes into the slot with more force than was strictly necessary. Kris had called the woman first thing, and despite Bob Matthews providing her with an introduction, the reception had been decidedly cool. She'd agreed to meet, but had told Kris in no uncertain terms that she wasn't about to break her routine for her. Kris has assured her that that was ok and Marian had reluctantly told her where to meet. The town was little bigger than Menzies, but it boasted a small row of shops as well as the Laundromat.

Silence fell between the two women; only the rhythmic pounding of the dryer breaking the otherwise frosty atmosphere.

"I'm guessing that yet another anniversary is on the horizon?" Marian finally spoke up; the way that she pulled at the cuffs of her blouse showing that she wasn't entirely comfortable.

Kris nodded mutely, not trusting herself to speak.

"And is Henry sticking his head in the sand as per usual and trying to pretend that it's got nothing to do with him?" Marian glanced in Kris' direction. "That's what he usually does. It's about the only time he ever calls... Rest of the year he might as well be on another planet, but as soon as that damned anniversary starts coming round again he's on the phone." Her mouth pulled into a tight smile. "And before you ask, the only thing he ever wants to talk about is that damned crash. Not me, not his kids, just that damned crash."

Kris waited for a moment; surprised by the bitterness in the woman's voice. "You ever take those calls?"

Marian shook her head. "I'm done with that now. The one thing I don't need to hear anymore is some drunk old man telling me what happened that night." She reached into her purse and hunted round for the opened pack of cigarettes. "But I'm guessing that's why you're here?" She pulled a cigarette free from the pack and placed it between her lips. "Been a long time since anyone cared what I actually thought."

She waited for Kris to ask a question, but when none was forthcoming she drew a lighter from her pocket and lit the cigarette. "I sometimes think that the crash was the worst thing that happened to him." She took a deep breath before slowly expelling the smoke. "A gambling loser I could just about cope with, but seeing the army painting him as some kind of hero... now that was enough to push anyone over the edge." She pulled at the cigarette again; ash falling onto the hard floor below.

She squinted at Kris through the pall of smoke. "I'm guessing that he's not told you about his little gambling problem? ... No, thought not."

Kris struggled to find something to say. She glanced around at the otherwise abandoned Laundromat and wished for another customer to come through the door. She'd initially been pleased by the chance to talk to Marian on her own, but now she wished for some kind of distraction. To say Marian was bitter was something of an understatement. Kris had the distinct impression that she blamed every bad event in her life on Henry Sullivan. She forced herself to pay attention to the woman as she realised that she was speaking again.

"...they usually do at this time of year,"

Kris raised her eyebrows and looked enquiringly at Marian, hoping that she'd elaborate more on the information that she'd just missed. She watched as the woman took a long drag on her cigarette before stubbing it out in one of the shallow metal ashtrays that sat upon the top of the driers. Judging by their contents it looked as though smoking was the pastime of choice in the area whilst waiting for the laundry.

"I take it you have spoken to those idiots who hang around the base?" Her tone made it plain what she thought of them. "Forced me to find new a school for my kids when they took to hanging around outside and trying to intimidate their friends."

Kris frowned. "That doesn't sound like them."

Marian pursed her lips. "You been talking that waste of space of a sheriff have you? He wouldn't know crime if it came up to him and made a confession. He used to stand back and do nothing when Henry was being threatened by Jack Falcone and his cronies. They would have had to kill him before Bob Matthews would believe that something was up."

Kris was immediately on the alert. "Jack Falcone?" That was the second time she had heard that name.

"Local thug. Sell his own family if he thought it would make him a buck. Used to take one look at weak men like Henry and then bleed them dry. Giving out money with one hand and running the poker game with the other." She shook her head. "And Henry was just too dumb to realise that he'd never be allowed to win."

"And the sheriff did nothing?"

Marian let out a scornful laugh. "Bob was just as scared of them as everyone else in town. There's a reason that he's still only sheriff of a town this size, and it's got nothing to do with the lack of opportunities in the area. That's why I'm telling you it's these crash freaks hassling my kids. Sheriff's too damn scared and too damned old to do anything about them."

"You're certain it's not this Jack Falcone?"

Marian let out a laugh. "No honey, that man left town a long time ago. Bled all the money out of the locals and then moved onto bigger things."

"But there are still old debts outstanding?"

Marian narrowed her eyes. "Who told you that?"

Kris held up her hands. "Just guessing. If he always pulled people in over their heads I was just guessing that there would still be a lot outstanding to him." She shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe he's just decided that it's time to call a few debts back in."

Marian looked pointedly at Kris. "There's nothing in this town that would attract Jack Falcone these days. He's strictly big time." She gestured down at her washing. "Now if you've finished..."

"If there's anything else you can think of, or if you need to talk then this is a number where I can be reached." She held out the small business card, but Marian made no attempt to take it. Kris placed the card onto the top of the drier and slid it in Marian's direction before turning away and heading towards the exit.

Marian watched the young blonde-haired woman as she exited the Laundromat and headed towards the car that was parked on the opposite side of the road. She looked at the card on the drier and, after a moment's thought, picked it up.

* * *

Kris frowned as she approached the rental car. She could see from a distance that the driver's window was wound down, and that was definitely not how she had left it. She swore beneath her breath; Bosley was not going to want to hear about this.

She slowed as she neared the car and tried to inspect it for any other damage. She was somewhat relieved to see that there was no obvious scratching to the paintwork, or marks where the lock had been forced. She opened the door and glanced inside.

On the passenger seat was a plain buff envelope. Kris immediately straightened back up and looked around; trying to spot if there was anyone watching. The street was just as sleepy as it had been when she'd arrived. There were a few shoppers out and about, but no-one who looked as though they were paying her any attention. She slid behind the wheel of the car and carefully opened the padded envelope. A 7-inch spool of audio tape slid out into her hands. It was housed in a plain white box. She turned the item over. The only markings were in black ink. 'K47 CVR', followed by a date. Her eyes widened. First the mysterious intruder in the room and now this. She slid the box back into the envelope and took a deep breath. She had to get the tape to somewhere safe, and she had to do it quickly.

* * *

Jarek Lazic was not by nature a patient man. He stood in the office with his hands clasped behind his back, trying to disguise his mood by reverting to the 'at ease' posture he'd learnt during his time in the army. He was hoping that the call to the office would result in some direct action. Watching the comings and goings of others was not what he was best suited to.

He straightened up as the door to the office finally opened and Jack Falcone entered the room. Jarek didn't rate Falcone as much of a physical threat; the man's real strength came from his single-mindedness. If he decided that he wanted to have something, then nothing and no-one would stand in his way. Quite why Falcone was giving Sullivan so much respect was something that he didn't understand. He knew better than to ask a direct question. He was useful to his current employer, but he wasn't naive enough to think that he was irreplaceable.

He watched as Falcone leisurely took his seat and made a point of going through the files that were placed on the desk.

"Things appear to be getting a little more complicated." Falcone opened the conversation without bothering to look up. Jarek remained silent, knowing that there was more to come. "My contacts in Menzies indicate that someone is sniffing around, asking questions. You report that Douglas is being followed and possibly investigated." Falcone shook his head. "This is very disturbing news." He finally looked up and made eye contact with Jarek. "You discover anything from your last look around Douglas' place?"

"Nothing new. He keeps his information with him. There is however..." he tailed off as Falcone raised a hand.

"Keep to the question I asked Mr Lazic, I'm not interested in anything else."

"There is nothing new."

"And the woman who was with him?"

"I followed her back across town to an apartment block." He nodded towards the printed sheet in one of the files. "The details of her car and her apartment are all there."

"Very diligent Mr Lazic. I'm sure I'm very grateful for your attention to detail." He sat back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. "Who do you think she is?"

"She showed up with a man outside Sullivan's place. They followed Douglas away and now she eats dinner with him."

Falcone shot him a patient smile. "That is not an answer Mr Lazic; that is simply a repetition of the facts I have in front of me. Who do **you** think she is?"

"I think that perhaps she and this other woman you mention are investigating Douglas."

"I think so too Mr Lazic, and I think that it's something that needs careful watching. I have people in Menzies ready to deal with the problem there. I need to know that you are ready to remove the problem here should the need arise."

"I am ready," Jarek assured him. "I need only the word." He paused. "And Sullivan?"

"Ahh Mr Sullivan... I'm afraid that he is taking rather longer than hoped to come to his senses. I know of your impatience, but you must kerb it. This is a matter that needs careful handling if we are to achieve the intended result." He smiled at Jarek. "We must remain blameless Mr Lazic, the police must sniff around someone else's door and not bring their suspicions to ours." He drummed his fingers on the polished surface of his desk. "You left the 'gift' for Mr Sullivan as I suggested?"

Jarek nodded, deciding that it was better not to reveal that he had been engaged in conversation by one of the neighbours as he left. "All was done as you requested."

"I hope perhaps Mr Sullivan is beginning to reconsider his threat to talk to the press."

"You are taking a risk Mr Falcone," Jarek pointed out cautiously. "There is nothing to stop Sullivan from going to the police."

Falcone smiled. "If Mr Sullivan talks to the police then I'm sure they will come knocking at Mr Douglas' door. He has been the one who has been hanging around Sullivan's place. I want to know what the man is up to, and a few hours cooling his heels in a police cell could give us the window of opportunity that we require to examine what he knows." He fixed Jarek with a firm gaze. "You will proceed exactly as instructed Mr Lazic. I hope you understand me."

Jarek nodded.

"Good. I don't want the police to come knocking at my door because you couldn't manage to follow orders. Before this ends Sullivan is going to regret the day our paths ever crossed." Falcone saw the look that crossed Jarek's fce. "Trust me Mr Lazic; it's not an event he's ever going to forget."


	10. Chapter 10

Kris found Bob Matthews exactly where he'd been the previous day. He called out in greeting to her as she opened the door to Hogan's and offered to buy her a drink.

"Had a busy day?" Gerry enquired as she crossed towards the bar.

Kris smiled at him. "Just chasing down a few things. Got a boss who'll get tetchy if I don't provide him with enough local colour."

Gerry shook his head and turned his attention to the two men who were playing pool at the other end of the bar. When she was satisfied that he wasn't listening she tapped Bob on the arm. "Can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure thing. What can I do for you?" He frowned. "Marian didn't give you too hard a time, did she?"

Kris shook her head. "It's not that."

Bob looked at her searchingly, knowing that something was bothering her. "You sure. She's got acid in her veins that one, and no mistake."

Kris tried to force a smile onto her face. "I've met worse than Marian. She's one unhappy lady that's for sure."

"What is it?" Bob held up a hand. "And don't say nothing cause I won't buy that for a second."

Kris chewed her lip for a moment, deciding whether or not she should trust him. "Have you got an old ¼-inch tape player?"

"Sure. What do you need it for?"

"It may be nothing. There's just something I need to check out. Do you mind if I use it now?"

Bob took in the serious expression on her face and quickly drained his glass. "Sure thing. Just follow me."

From his place at the bar, Gerry watched them go; his hand reaching for the phone before the door had fully closed.

* * *

Kris laced up the machine, threading the thin tape through the heads and then wrapping it around the take up spool. She pressed the standby button and the machine hummed into life; the heads adjusting and taking up the slack on the tape.

"Surprised the old thing still works," Bob admitted as he wiped a hand across the back of his neck. "Not used it since my niece sent me one of those cassette player things."

Kris flexed her fingers and then pressed the play button. There was a pause and then the tape began to move.

There was a lot of background noise and it took her a moment or two to work out where the recording had been made.

"Oh my," she breathed as realisation dawned. "It's the flightdeck of an aircraft." She reached out and shut the machine off.

Bob frowned. "Aren't you going to listen to it all?"

Kris shook her head. "I need to get this to my boss as soon as I can."

"What is it?"

"Probably safer that you don't know at the moment." She took in the hurt expression on his face. "Look I'm sorry; I haven't being entirely honest with you. I am here to look into the crash, but I'm no journalist... I'm a detective. Last night someone threatened me in my hotel room and then this morning someone broke into my car and left me this."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"It was too dark to see who it was, and they didn't do anything but try and scare me into leaving." She stared at the tape. "I need to get back to LA as soon as I can and I need to take this tape with me."

Bob looked long and hard at her. "If someone is following you then there's a chance that they already know you have the tape. If you trust me...I have a plan." He waited for a moment and when she didn't offer up an argument he carried on. "I have other reels of tape. I suggest we send one tape on to your friends and you take the other." He raised a hand as she opened her mouth to speak. "You don't need to tell me which one you are sending – the fewer people who know the truth the better."

She smiled grimly at him. "You think that it's that serious?"

"In the past two years the only criminal act here has been the price that Gerry charges for a scotch. Midnight intruders and people busting windows on your car; that's serious by Menzies standards. I don't know why they picked on you, but you've got a responsibility to get that tape back to people who might be able to do some good with it."

Kris found that she couldn't fault his argument.

"I'll get you that other tape and then you can decide what you want to do," Bob told her firmly as he rose from his chair. "There's a regular pick up from the post office. We might even make the next collection if we move now."

Kris unlaced the tape from the machine. Someone had wanted to make sure that the tape found an audience at last. She just wasn't certain who that person was.

* * *

"That's going to be expensive," Martha warned as she peered over the top of her half-moon glasses.

Kris' fingers danced impatiently on the well-worn counter top. "That's fine. It's just very important that it gets to its destination as quickly as possible."

Martha frowned. "You want to insure it? If it's as important as you say it is."

"Sure," Kris tried again to hurry the process up, but Martha wasn't a woman to be rushed. She weighed the parcel again; squinting at the number on the scales.

"I really must see about getting my eyes checked," she remarked as she scratched a number down on the notepad in front of her. "My daughter is always telling me that I need to go regular, but it's not easy."

"Really."

Martha took Kris' reply as a sign that she was interested and she looked up, resting both arms on the parcel. "It's a good journey to the eye doctor and who am I going to find to take care of this place whilst I'm gone?" She gestured towards the room behind her. "There's the local exchange here as well. Can't leave folks here without any contact to the outside world."

Kris had a sneaking suspicion that Martha was actually more worried about missing some salacious piece of gossip, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Now was not the time to go upsetting the one person who could help her. She drew money from her pocket and unfurled a few notes. "How much do I owe you?"

Martha frowned and reluctantly returned her attention to the scales. "Urgent you say?"

"Yes. It's important that it gets to its destination without delay."

Martha muttered something and then sifted through the envelopes that were lined up on the counter. Kris knew that she was fishing for information, but this was one thing that she couldn't afford for anyone else to know about.

Kris turned her head as the door behind her opened and a uniformed man entered the small office. She took in the uniform and allowed a small smile of relief to spread across her features. Bob had been right about the next pick up, and it looked as though the tape was going to be on its way without delay.

"Can you wait a couple of minutes?" she asked the man as she nodded in the direction of the parcel. "I've got something that really needs to get on its way."

"Sure thing." The man removed his hat and grinned at Martha. "You got a glass of something cold for a thirsty worker Mrs Roberts?"

"I certainly have Rodney," she replied, her interest in Kris' parcel immediately forgotten about.

Kris sighed as she realised that the express service was about to take a fifteen minute break for soda.

* * *

Gerry pulled away from the window and the blinds snapped shut; dust floating away on the disturbed air. He'd watched the young woman enter the post office with a parcel in one hand and now depart without it. He sucked the air in over his teeth, hoping that he'd made the right decision in calling Falcone. He owed the man and he told himself that that was the only reason that he'd called.

There was a shout for service from someone at the bar and he turned reluctantly away from the window. The last thing he wanted was trouble, and he hoped that he'd not just invited it for a visit.

* * *

"Well that was a lot harder than I'd expected," Kris admitted as she took a seat in Bob's office. He'd made the effort to get back into uniform and take his official place behind his desk. She had the feeling that she was in some way responsible for his actions. The small sheriff's office was coated in a thin layer of dust and Kris wondered when it had last been in use.

"Martha want to find out what you were sending?" he asked her with a smile. "That's to be expected."

"I should get back." She frowned as she saw the shake of Bob's head. "There's a lot I need to do."

"The first thing you need to do is get that window of yours fixed," he told her. "You don't want to be driving around these dusty roads without proper ventilation." He glanced up at the clock on the wall. "And anyways, it's too late to be setting out anywhere now. Next flight is tomorrow, and it's a good long journey to the airport."

Kris grimaced. "I remember. You know of anyone who could fix my window for me?"

"Sure. I can get that sorted for you."

Kris was about to tell him that she was more than capable of sorting things out for herself, but she understood that Bob was just trying to help; that he was feeling guilty about the intruder the previous night. It had happened in his town and he'd not been able to do anything to stop it.

She smiled her thanks at him and drew the other envelope from her bag. It was identical to the one she'd mailed. She weighed it in her hands. "And now I have no idea which tape I have."

"It's the safest way," he told her.

"I know. But I want to know where it came from. Who knew I was here, and who's kept hold of it all this time?"

Bob shrugged. "Everyone in town knows who you are and they can guess why you're here. Maybe you have a trusting face. Douglas came here and cash was his motivator. Not everyone appreciates that."

Kris stared down at the envelope. "I wonder where this tape has been for the last fifteen years?"

"It may have been sitting in my cupboard gathering dust," Bob reminded her. "You want to leave it in the safe overnight?"

Kris shook her head. "Thanks, but I'd rather keep it with me. Don't want you getting into any trouble on my account."

"Will you let me buy you dinner at Hogan's?"

"Sure."

* * *

Gerry was more than a little surprised when the doors of the bar swung open and Bob entered with Kris at his side. He wiped his hands on his bar towel. "I thought you'd left us," he commented and set about pouring Bob his regular drink.

Kris settled herself on a stool. "Heading out in the morning. Stone broke the window on my car, just getting it fixed before I head on out." She nodded as he offered her a drink. "Thanks Gerry."

"You get all that you came for?" he asked conversationally.

"I think so," she smiled back at him and accepted the drink. "I have to say that I'm not looking forward to the long drive back."

Gerry waved away Bob's offer to pay. "Least I can do is try and keep my regulars happy." He turned away from the pair of them and caught the eye of the two men who were seated at the opposite end of the bar. He nodded in Kris' direction and then returned his attentions to his work.

One of the men rose to his feet and headed for the door, casting a quick glance back at Kris and Bob before he left.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Thanks to the patient few who have stayed with this. I'm aiming for more regular updates...and even if I'm on my own by the end I'm determined to finish this thing._**

* * *

Kris threw her bag into the trunk of the car and then climbed behind the wheel; letting out a breath of frustration as the hot air inside the car washed over her. She'd intended to leave one of the windows open a crack overnight but had forgotten about it. As she wound down the creaking window she regretted that decision; the still air was stifling, and it was accompanied by a disturbingly musty smell. Not for the first time in the last two days Kris made a mental note to talk to Bosley about the quality of rental cars that he used.

As she turned the key in the ignition and the aging engine spluttered into life, she caught sight of Bob in the rear view mirror. He was standing in the doorway of the Sheriff's office, one hand raised in greeting. She acknowledged him and drew the car alongside the building.

"Ready for the off?" Bob raised a hand and tapped the edge of the baseball cap that he was wearing. He glanced up at the perfect blue sky. "Reckon it's going to be a hot one. You got plenty of water on board?"

Kris nodded. "I'm not sure who's going to drink more of it – me or the car."

Bob frowned and scratched at the stubble on his chin. "There's not much on the road by way of gas stations," he warned her. "And not a lot of traffic on the road."

Kris smiled at his concern. "I'll be fine."

Bob didn't look convinced. "Well you be sure and give me a call when you reach the airport. Don't want to worry an old man now, do you?"

"I'll call," she told him. "Or should I just ring Martha and then the whole town will know."

Bob let out a long laugh. "Just promise me that you'll let me know that you're safe and don't let anyone with a broken down car and a sob story make you stop."

"I promise," Kris assured him, letting off the handbrake and pulling away from the kerb.

Bob watched her go, standing at the doorway until the car disappeared out of sight. When he was satisfied that she was safely on her way, he turned and went back into the cool shade of his office. He crossed the room and lifted the ring of keys from their hook. There was one thing about the crash that he hadn't told her; in fact until that moment he had forgotten all about it. He paced slowly through the office, back to the locked room where evidence was supposed to be kept. The room was now mostly used as a storeroom, but there were still a handful of boxes that contained files and exhibits relating to old cases.

He cycled through the collection of keys on the loop until he finally located the one that he was looking for

* * *

From the shadows two men watched the dust cloud rise in the air as the car pulled away down the street. After a brief consultation one of them headed for Hogan's. The other paused for a moment before getting behind the wheel of his car. He gunned the engine and then headed off after the departing car.

* * *

Bob Matthews eased his way between the stacks of dusty boxes that cluttered up the small back room of the office. Every time that he had cause to add another box to the collection he promised himself that he'd do something about the mess, but somehow the thought would pass from his mind and nothing would be done. Now, as he tried to squeeze his way past the dusty containers, he wished that he'd spent a little time maintaining a proper sort of order. He knew what he was looking for; he just wasn't entirely certain where he could lay his hands on it.

He pulled on the light cord and waited for the strip light to flicker into life. The ends of the fluorescent tube hummed, but failed to fully light. Bob swore beneath his breath and searched around for something to tap the starter with. The light had never worked properly; always flickering but never starting first time.

After a few moments the flickering of the light began to get on his nerves. It was almost preferable to switch it off and work in near darkness. He located an old broom handle and reached up, giving the starter a smart tap. It made no difference; the fluorescent tube continuing to flicker and fail.

Grumbling more loudly now, Bob resolved to head back to his office and find a torch. As he tried to force his way back through the stacks, he brushed heavily against a precariously balanced set of boxes. They crashed to the floor, spilling their contents all over the narrow passageway.

Bob was ready to throw the whole thing in, when he spotted the file that had scattered its contents across the floor in front of him. Of all the things to come across.

He looked up sharply as the flickering tube light went out, plunging the small storeroom into blackness.

"Who's there?" he called out, certain that he could hear the sound of footsteps. "If that's you Jimmy Rattan, me and your mother are going to be having a long hard talk about why you're not in school...Jimmy?"

There was no reply.

Bob swore beneath his breath. He had better things to do than waste time chasing after Jimmy Rattan. He reached out with his hands, searching for the edges of the boxes as he waited for his eyes to become accustomed to the low level light. He made his way carefully back towards the light switch. He was going to have serious words with Jimmy's mother the next time he saw her in town. Jimmy's wagging from school was getting out of hand.

From somewhere nearby he heard the sound of someone breathing. "Jimmy?" he called out into the darkness. "That you Jimmy?"

He took another pace forward, doubt beginning to play at the corners of his mind. Jimmy was a prankster that was certain, but it wasn't like him to keep a joke running for this amount of time. "Jimmy?"

There was the sound of boxes toppling, spilling their contents out onto the floor. "Who is that?" Bob demanded to know, fear creeping into his voice. "You best show yourself."

He spun round as he heard the crunch of broken glass behind him. There was a flash of recognition in his eyes before the heavy iron bar came into contact with the side of his head and he collapsed in an untidy heap on the floor.

* * *

Kris looked at the temperature gauge with concern; the engine was beginning to overheat and she was still a way from the next gas station. She swore beneath her breath and smacked a hand on the steering wheel. She'd already topped up the radiator once since setting out. If she had to continue on at this rate, then she was going to be out of water by the time she reached the next gas station. She wondered briefly what a bottle of soda would do to the radiator; it was the only other liquid she had in the car and it was getting to the stage where it was too warm to drink.

She wiped a hand across her face, trying to remove at least the worst of the grit that had coated her skin. She had tried travelling with the window closed, but the interior of the car had quickly become unbearably hot, and she'd been forced to wind the window down again. All around her was dusty open scrubland. Attempts had been made to farm some of the land, but Kris doubted that the farmers saw much return for their money. The land was uninviting and she wasn't unduly surprised that the area had never been settled upon. She risked a glance at the temperature gauge again and winced; the needle had now shot over to the right and was angrily hitting the end stop demanding her attention. She had to pull the car over; the only problem would be finding somewhere on the narrow dusty road where she wouldn't present herself as a target to be hit by any approaching vehicles. There was no question of pulling off the road, the banks slipped away from the poorly maintained road, and Kris doubted that she'd be able to coax the car back up the sandy, crumbling soil. She let out a low groan of pure frustration and added another few scathing lines to the rant she was going to direct in Bosley's direction.

She glanced in the rear view mirror, and was surprised to notice that the battered blue Pontiac that had passed her going the other way only a few moments ago was now behind her and closing fast. She smiled to herself; the guy at the wheel had probably decided that the trip just wasn't worth it in the baking conditions. The smile fell from her face as the car drew even closer behind her; showing no signs of slowing down. She pushed her foot down on the accelerator and attempted to put some distance between herself and the car, but as quickly as she upped her speed, the Pontiac did the same.

A cold prickle of sweat formed on her face as she realised what was going on. She glanced in the rear view mirror and noted that the driver of the car had a firm fixed expression on his face. She urged the car forward again as the car drew even closer behind her.

Even though she knew what was coming, the first jolt almost caused her to lose control of the car. The Pontiac had not hit her rear fender with much force, but it was enough to unsettle her. She swore beneath her breath and struggled to control the car as it threatened to veer across the road. As the car responded to her commands, she pushed her foot down harder on the accelerator, willing it to pick up speed.

* * *

The flames licked hungrily at the dry pile of boxes and the documents they contained. Mixing with the oxygen in the air the fire grew at a rapid pace; the tinder dry walls of the wooden shed offering a steady source of fuel for the spreading fire. Within a matter of minutes the inside of the shed was a small inferno. The fire sparing nothing in its path as it crackled and spat; dark plumes of black smoke making their way under the door as it sought to expand further.

There was no-one to raise the alarm, no-one to stop the rapidly spreading flames. By the time that anyone in the town realised what was going on, the destruction of the sheriff's office would be complete.

* * *

Kris grimaced as the blue Pontiac slammed into the back of her car again. She wrenched the steering wheel to the left, struggling to keep the vehicle on the narrow dusty road. She'd taken and aced the driving course at the police academy, but it was one thing carrying out the manoeuvres against an instructor whose intention was only to get you through the course, and another entirely to be trying them out against an unknown driver whose sole intent seemed to be killing her. Her mind raced and she struggled to recall the barking words of her academy instructor. She could picture him; a bluff, greying man who was distinctly less than impressed at having to accept women onto the course. She remembered clearly his sneering tones as he looked across at the new intake and spotted her and another female officer standing expectantly on the sidewalk. The memories vanished as the car shuddered again as the driver behind her struck her another glancing blow. She racked her brains, struggling to remember the things that the instructor had taught her. The car behind was bigger and more powerful than her own, but life had taught her that that didn't necessarily give him the advantage. She fought to retain control of the car, taking it across to the other side of the road.

One glance at the dashboard confirmed what she had feared; the radiator had given up; it had been rattling ominously for the past few seconds as the speed of the car caused it to boil dry. She glanced ahead desperately; praying that there would be a building in sight, or at the very least another car on the road. She felt her heart sink as she realised that she was truly on her own. There were no buildings and no turn-offs for miles around; nothing but her and a man who was determined to run her off the road. She jerked forward in her seat as the car was rammed again from behind. She fought with the steering wheel as the car threatened to veer off the road and down the ditch onto the scrubland beyond.

Kris' eyes widened in fear as she spotted the oncoming tractor. The driver of the car behind her was moving up along her right-hand side. She realised his plan in an instant. He intended to shunt her into the path of the oncoming vehicle. If she let him carry out the manoeuvre then she was as good as dead. There was no way that her car would stand up to the impact. Taking a steadying breath, Kris concentrated on keeping the car in a straight line. The engine was nearly dead. If she could keep control of the vehicle until she was past the tractor, then she would take it off the road and take her chances with the steep embankment. She willed the car to move faster but it was now limping along. She caught sight of the Pontiac as it pulled alongside her, matching every speed change that she made. As it swerved towards her, she realised that she'd run out of options.

There was a sickening screech of metal as the small car smashed into the side of the larger oncoming vehicle. The impact caused both vehicles to leave the road and slide down the ditch. The driver of the tractor fought to maintain control of his vehicle, but he could only watch helplessly as the smaller car ploughed on until it landed with a crunch at the bottom of the slope, the front of the car crumpling under pressure.


	12. Chapter 12

"I hate journalists," Henry told Sabrina flatly as he handed her a mug of coffee and then moved to stand at the window of his apartment. They'd managed to get through the day without too many arguments but neither party were sure exactly how long the ceasefire would last. She glanced at his him out of the corner of her eye; noticing that once again he seemed distracted. She watched as he peered through the narrow slats of the blind. "Take that guy there." He pointed towards the tan coloured car where Carl Douglas was once again sitting, watching their every move. "He's writing about me; writing about me as though I'm some kind of public property here to be exploited by any third rate hack that comes along." He paused and Sabrina noticed the way that he started clenching his fists. "I have met so many people who were not there but who write books." He told her in a tight voice. "What gives them the right to nose into my life ... my past? I'm sure they wouldn't like it if I were to take to following them around and making their life hell."

"You ever do anything about it?" Sabrina asked.

Henry's face relaxed a little. "If you mean do I go over to the car and threaten to break bones then the answer is no."

"Good," she smiled at him. "You don't need me to tell you that that wouldn't be a wise move."

Henry sighed. 'I just wish they'd leave me alone and let me get on with my life."

"But you were a hero," she told him earnestly. "Why do you have such a hard time accepting that?"

Henry turned and regarded her expression for a few moments before shaking his head and turning away to stare out of the window. "I'll tell you who I am. I'm Henry Sullivan from Dayton Ohio, a sergeant in the US Army, a man who was useful at his trade on good days and rubbish on bad. That's what I want to be remembered for, not for something that happened on the spur of the moment." He sighed heavily. "Do you know what it's like to spend your whole life trying to live up to the image that someone else has created for you?" He shook his head. "I'm no hero Sabrina. I never was. I never wanted to be."

"I'm sorry," she told him softly.

In the reflection from the window, she watched as his face relaxed into a half- smile.

"You'd be surprised by how many folks out there think that I want to be constantly reminded of that night." He paused as his eyes followed the action that was taking place in the street below. "The press only talk of the lives that were saved that night; none of them mention the seven of my friends that died. Friends, good friends, friends that I still miss to this day. Friends, who when I close my eyes, I can still see as they were that night."

"I am sorry," Sabrina repeated, wishing that the word didn't sound so hollow.

He waved away her apology and folded his arms tightly, his attention once again drawn to the people who made their way up and down the street below.

"No-one ever mentions my friends when they talk about the crash. It's always all about Senator Ward; about what he was trying to do. The crash had nothing to do with Ward; he was just another victim of it...like my friends were, like I am...I hope that none of the people down there ever have to be heroes." His voice was quiet and Sabrina had to strain to make out what he was saying. "I wouldn't want to wish that burden onto anyone. The media get a hold of you and it's like they own you. They poke and pry into every part of your life and expect you to be grateful for it, when all you want to do is sit quietly and mourn the loss of others."

"You did a brave thing that night; that's all people know."

Henry rounded on her. "It wasn't brave, it wasn't anything that twenty other men weren't doing. We were trying to save the lives of fellow servicemen. If that damn idiot with the camera had been helping to pull people from the plane rather than pushing his bloody camera into people's faces, then maybe we would have saved another life."

Henry brushed past her and headed for the bookcase. He lifted a silver-framed photograph from the top shelf and pushed it into her hands. "Nine of those men are now dead. Nine. No-one shed a single tear for George Martin." He stabbed at the picture with a finger. "George, now George was there that night. Did the same damn thing I did. Walked away from the army six months ago and we buried him just a month later. No-one was there to say a word about how brave he'd been; no-one was there to worry about what happened to him. No-one but his ex-wife and his army buddies at the funeral. Not one column inch dedicated to him." Henry tapped the picture again with his finger. "You want to talk about heroes, then you want to talk about men like George."

Sabrina stared down at the now familiar photograph. It was the same one that she'd seen in the file the general had given them. She'd had no idea that more members of the crew had now died.

Henry took the photograph back out of her hands and paced back towards the bookcase. "I know you mean well," he told her gruffly, as though realising that he'd overstepped the mark. "It's just that at your age you think that you're invincible. You don't know what it's like to lose people that you really care about."

Sabrina opened her mouth to say something but Henry cut her off. "Sure you lose grandparents, maybe a great aunt, but you don't know what it's like to lose someone you trusted with your life." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm no braver than anyone who was down there on that strip at Menzies that night."

An uncomfortable silence fell between the pair of them. Sabrina battled with her conscience, wanting to say something, but not certain that her words would be welcome. She took several shallow breaths, building up to the moment, but it was ruined by the jarring intrusive ring of the phone.

Henry grumbled something beneath his breath and headed off to answer it. Sabrina watched him go, surprised by the way that her hands were shaking.

"It's for you!" Henry's voice broke across her thoughts, and Sabrina clenched and opened her fists as she tried to stop the emotion that had been building. She crossed the room and took the phone silently from him. "Yeah?"

"You okay?" she detected the worry in the voice on the other end and she made an effort to seem calm.

"Yeah Kelly, fine. I just guess I wasn't expecting to hear from you."

"Sorry, I just thought you ought to know. General Warner called. There's some more information for us waiting at the base. He wasn't specific about what it was but said that we could pick it up...Sabrina?"

"Can't he have it delivered?"

"Wouldn't it be easier to pick it up yourself... if you're going to be hanging out with Sullivan?"

"He doesn't go in that much at the moment, and it's not really going to support my story about being his niece if I turn up to work with him. I don't think the army run a 'Bring a relative to work' programme," she hissed, hoping that Henry was out of earshot.

The silence on the other end of the line told Sabrina that her excuse wasn't winning any votes.

"Henry's convinced that we're only here to spy on him. He sees me following him to the main gate and his imagination is going to start working overtime."

"Right!"

"I wouldn't ask you if I didn't think that it was important."

There was another long pause on the end of the line. "Don't worry, I'll detour out that way," Kelly finally answered. "But you owe me dinner for the detour... and I mean something decent, not what you usually throw together and try and pass off as dinner!"

Sabrina thanked her quietly and then ended the call.

Henry hadn't heard the exchange on the phone, but he had noticed the tension in the young woman's body language. There was something that she wasn't happy about.

He looked around, desperately trying to find some way to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen upon the room. His eyes took in the back page advertisement of the magazine that he had thrown down onto the sofa earlier on. He gestured towards it.

"May 11th is nearly upon us," he grunted. "Magazines already guilt-tripping us into spending money we can't afford. You going to have to do anything to make up for being away on Mother's day?"

"What?" She straightened up, glaring at him before quickly recovering her composure. "I'll be sending flowers home," she told him quietly. "It's something I do every year."

"Just flowers?" Henry queried.

Sabrina nodded. "Just flowers." She nodded towards the front door. "If you'll excuse me; I need some air."

* * *

Kris raised her head cautiously and glanced over the top of the steering wheel. Somehow – she wasn't sure exactly how – she was still in one piece. Steam was pouring from the front of the car from the overheated engine. She dreaded to think what the back end of the car would look like – it was certainly going to lead to Bosley giving her another of his lectures. She tried to take a deep steadying breath and immediately regretted it as the dust that was billowing around her caught in her throat, causing her to cough.

She pushed against the side of the door, willing the buckled metal to shift. There was a loud screech of metal against metal as the hinges protested at the pressure that was applied to them. She tried to force down the feeling of panic that was rising in her chest. There was no way of knowing what damage had been done to the car; for all she knew it could be leaking fuel. She tried to push the thought aside, but in her adrenaline fuelled state, the idea became all-consuming. She pushed and thumped the door in frustration, panic beginning to takeover. She had to get out of the car, and she had to do it quickly.

* * *

Sabrina let the door close behind her and it slammed shut with a satisfying clang. She closed her eyes and turned her face up towards the sun, enjoying the feel of the warmth on her face.

She let out the breath she'd been holding. She'd made a mess of the situation and now she was going to have to work to get Henry back on side again.

She mentally berated herself for letting her emotions get the better of her. She was supposed to be working; there wasn't time to let her own problems get in the way.

"Sullivan not buying your act either?"

A familiar voice broke across her thoughts. She turned to face Carl Douglas, squinting as her eyes became accustomed to the glare of the sun.

"Did you want something?"

Carl looked down at his feet, a smile forming on his face. "I want straight answers about why you're here, but I don't for a second believe that you're going to tell me the truth."

"It's no business of yours why I'm here," she snapped at him. "And anyway shouldn't you be hiding in your car taking snapshots?"

She regretted the words the moment that they left her mouth, but it was too late to take them back. She watched the way that the expression on Carl's face hardened. He glared at her.

"I don't know what your game is lady, but trust me when I say that I will find out." He tapped the side of his nose. "I know people lady, and they're gonna be watching you."

His piece said he turned on his heel and headed back towards his car. Sabrina watched him go, half-tempted to follow him and try and persuade him to leave her alone. She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. The man was a nuisance. She didn't think that he was behind the crank calls that Henry was receiving but he was always on the scene and that meant that he couldn't be discounted.

She'd come outside to try and clear her mind, but all she'd done was made things worse. She sighed. She'd have to keep checking for tails whenever she left the apartment. The last thing the case needed was Carl Douglas working out that she was staying with Kelly.

She watched as Carl fired up the engine of his car. He glanced over in her direction and winked at her before pulling out into traffic.

Sabrina slapped a hand against the side of her leg. The day, she decided, just couldn't get worse.

* * *

Kris was grateful for the driver of the tractor. He stumbled over the uneven ground in his haste to get to her. Placing both hands on the handle of the door, he pulled with all his might and wrenched the door open.

"You ok ma'am?" he asked as he reached in and offered her a hand.

"As long as I don't stop to think about it," Kris told him honestly as she let him pull her free from the crumpled vehicle.

"I don't think you're going to be going any further in that," he told her when he'd helped her to a safe distance; adjusting the hat on his head as he turned to regard the car.

Kris turned and looked at the rental car in front of her, her shoulders sagging as she took in the crumpled fenders and dented panels. "Bosley is going to kill me," she muttered disconsolately.

"Ma'am?"

She waved away the question. "It's nothing." She pushed her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath, aware that her heart was still hammering away inside her chest. She felt the adrenaline slowly begin to fade and she knew that it would shortly be replaced by the onset of shock. She clenched and unclenched her fists, not wanting to give into the shakes that were already starting to affect her arms and legs, but she knew that she was fighting a losing battle.

The young man pushed up the brim of his tatty baseball cap and scratched his head. "You want me to get onto Harry for you?"

When Kris didn't reply, he glanced in her direction and took in her deathly pale complexion and the way that her hands were shaking uncontrollably. He nodded. "Reckon I'll take you into town myself and then Harry can come out here whenever he gets the opportunity. He's the best mechanic in town," he told her conversationally as he held out a hand to lead her towards the tractor. " ... come to think of it, he's the only mechanic in town!"

Kris didn't reply, but mutely followed him across the uneven ground towards the large red tractor. Her foggy mind reminded her that traditionally a tractor only had one seat, but she didn't care about that, the man was going to take her to the nearest town that was all that mattered.

"My bag!" Thoughts of the tape suddenly filled her mind.

"Don't worry about that now," the man tried to persuade her to climb aboard the vehicle.

"Please," she insisted, her voice panicked. "I need to bring it with me."

The man swore beneath his breath, but realised that she was unlikely to go anywhere without it. He made sure that she was safe and then jogged back across the scrubland to retrieve the bag.


	13. Chapter 13

Kelly glanced around at the apartment one last time, checking that she hadn't left anything behind. She tapped her hand against her leg as she spotted the car keys sat on the counter in the kitchen – she certainly wasn't going to get very far without them.

She let out a sigh; it was more than a little frustrating to have to head out to the base. She'd been hoping to get through with some background checking on the survivors of the crash, but Sabrina's request that she pick up the files meant that she wouldn't get time to look at anything before her evening meeting with Carl Douglas. Her friend was hiding something from her; she knew that much. It was something she was going to have to level with her about before things went on much further. She'd been subdued on the phone; not her normal self. Kelly clicked her tongue against her teeth. It was something else that would have to wait.

As she scooped up the keys she heard a knock on the door. Her heart sank; the one thing she didn't need now was another delay. She crossed the apartment and pulled open the door. A man stood in the hallway; his uniform identifying him as a courier.

"Package for Miss Garrett," he announced and held a clipboard out towards her.

Kelly frowned. "She hadn't been expecting anything. "Who's it from?" she queried as she scribbled her signature on the dotted line.

The courier shrugged his shoulders. "All I know is that it's special delivery. Sender paid a premium to ensure that it reached here by three." He glanced at his watch. "And it's only a little after two."

Kelly quietly acknowledged the time and handed the clipboard back to the young man. He pulled a padded envelope from his bag and passed it to her.

She took the envelope without a word and then turned it over in her hands, trying to work out who had sent it.

She'd failed to hear the hopeful tone in the courier's voice, and now she missed the way that his face fell.

"Thank you," she finally remembered he was there and flashed a smile in his direction.

When he didn't move, she realised what he was angling for. "I'm sorry," she apologised and reached into her bag for her money.

Tip received, the courier wished her a good day and then headed back to the elevator. Kelly carefully opened the envelope and frowned as a small white box slid out into her hand. There was a note with it and she quickly read through it.

'_Left on the front seat of my car. No time to play it. Keep it safe until I return'. _There was no signature but Kelly recognised Kris' handwriting. She opened the box and took a look at the ¼ inch tape spool within. There was nothing in the apartment to play the tape on. She'd call Bosley when she was done at the base and get him to bring something over. She wondered just what Kris had been up to.

She glanced at her watch. Time was marching on, and she'd have to hurry if she was going to get out to the base on time. She slid the box back into the envelope and pushed the envelope back into her bag. The mystery of the tape's contents would have to wait. She zipped the bag back up and hurried towards the elevator.

* * *

Sabrina took a deep breath and pushed open the door to Henry's apartment. She didn't want to face the questions that would undoubtedly follow her abrupt departure. In that one moment she'd felt as though the walls were closing in on her and she knew that she needed to get out.

She heard the scrabble of paws as Missy scurried down the corridor to greet her as she entered and found that that she couldn't stop the smile that sprang onto her face.

"I wasn't gone long enough to be missed," she told the dog as it skipped around her, demanding attention.

As she stopped to acknowledge the dog, Henry appeared in the corridor. "Five minutes in Missy's world means that you qualify for a full greeting," he informed her.

An awkward silence fell between the pair of them. "Sorry," Henry finally spoke up. "I'm not used to having guests about the place. I'm sorry if I said anything to..."

Sabrina raised a hand to tell him that he didn't need to continue. "I'm sorry; I overreacted. I've got a few problems of my own to deal with." She gestured to the door and the faint stain of paint that was still visible. "I really think it's about time you levelled with me about the stuff that's been going on around here."

Henry scowled as he realised that he'd been caught out. "You'd best come through," he told her finally.

* * *

Kelly opened the door to the restaurant and immediately sought out Carl. She was running late and was trying to stop herself from feeling agitated. Her car had let her down on the way back from the base and she'd had to call a cab to get her across town. She knew that Bosley would complain about the way that she'd just abandoned the car, but there had been precious little time to think about things. The files from the general were weighing heavily in her bag, and she just hoped that Carl wouldn't wonder just what she was lugging around with her.

She spotted him almost straightaway and threaded her way through the other diners to reach the table.

He rose to his feet as she approached. "Was beginning to think that I'd been stood up," he told her with a smile.

"I'm really sorry," Kelly's apology was genuine. "I had a little car trouble."

"You're okay?"

"Fine. Nothing serious I think. It gets a little temperamental in hot weather. I'll call my service to look at it in the morning."

"As long as you're okay?" Carl persisted, waiting for a nod of assent before he called the waiter over and ordered a bottle of wine.

"I'm fine," she tried to reassure him. "Anyway... enough about me. What have you been up to?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "The usual."

Kelly looked at him closely. "I take it that means that you've been burning the midnight oil again."

He tried and failed to stop the smile that spread across his face. "Maybe."

Why are you so interested in Henry Sullivan?" Kelly wanted to know. "He's obviously gotten under your skin."

Carl rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully. "It's really that obvious?"

"Uh huh," Kelly nodded with a smile, gesturing towards the small tan briefcase that was placed on the seat next to Carl. "You don't seem to go anywhere without that." She studied Carl. "And I'm guessing that they're your notes?"

Carl smiled. "Right."

Kelly waited for the waiter to pour the wine and leave the table before she continued. "From what little I know Sullivan was something of a hero..."

Carl raised a hand to cut her off. "...The guy's spent the last 15 years being treated as though he was some kind of national hero."

"And he isn't?"

Carl shrugged his shoulders. "I started looking into the crash about 5 years ago for an anniversary article." He took in the puzzled expression on Kelly's face. "I used to work on the Birmingham Oracle," he explained. "That crash was about the biggest thing that ever happened in that part of the world. The locals were all for erecting some sort of memorial to the men who had died and I was instructed by my editor to write an article about the crash." He spread his hands wide. "I did a whole lot of searching and there were a surprising number of people who were more than a little reluctant to talk to me about the event."

"Maybe they just didn't want to dwell on the subject," Kelly suggested. "If you were the outsider, maybe it was you that they didn't want to discuss it with."

Carl shook his head. "I grew up in a small community like that. I knew how to talk to those sorts of people. Their silence wasn't down to me being an outsider."

"So why the reticence to talk?" Kelly wanted to know. "You suggesting that he wasn't there that night?"

"Oh, he was there alright," Carl told her. "I'm just not convinced that he's the hero the army made him out to be."

"Why not?"

"An up and coming senator happens to be on a routine flight. The plane goes up despite the storm warnings. Sullivan was ground crew for that plane. The inquest into the accident said pilot error, but there was no way that could ever be confirmed as the voice recorder on board was only partially transcribed." He shook his head. "Trust me that crash was no accident. Someone wanted Ward out of the way, and I believe that someone paid Sullivan to tamper with the plane. Ward was under surveillance at the time. Phone taps, electronic bugging devices...the works."

Kelly's eyes widened in genuine shock. "You have evidence?"

Carl tapped a finger against the side of his nose. "You'll have to wait for the book. Can't go giving away all the information I've spent years gathering to the first pretty girl that I meet." He paused and risked a quick glance in her direction to see what sort of reaction his comment was going to receive. He caught the smile on her face and immediately relaxed. He gestured towards the menus on the table. "You want to order?"

* * *

Sabrina walked out into the warm still air outside Henry's apartment, immediately missing the cool air-conditioning of the building. She unlocked the door of her car and climbed behind the wheel. She slid the key into the ignition, but instead of firing up the engine, she sat back in her seat and rubbed at her eyes. It had been a long and emotionally tiring day. Henry still had a lot of emotional baggage connected to the night of the crash, that was understandable, but Sabrina wasn't sure she understood his anger towards those who wanted to show their support. There was a dance developing between them. She'd ask a question and Henry would do his level best to change the subject. She was aware that she'd been guilty of the same sort of avoidance, but she wasn't the one who was on the end of nuisance phone calls and - from the look of it – paint being thrown at the door. He was keeping things from her, she was certain of that, but she knew that it would do her no good to come straight out and demand that he talk to her. He was just as likely to clam back up and demand that she leave.

She twisted the key in the ignition and thought back to their strained conversation earlier in the day. She'd not exactly levelled with him, so why did she suppose that he was going to be totally honest with her. Shifting the car into gear she edged it towards the road. Kelly would more than likely be out with Carl Douglas and, if she was honest with herself, she didn't relish the idea of a long night in the apartment by herself. She had her own demons to exorcise; her own reason for not wanting to be too long in town.

As she reached the intersection she made her decision. Ignoring the honking of horns from fellow motorists, she switched lanes and headed out onto the I-40.

She failed to notice the dark coloured Chevy that tried and failed to follow her move. Its driver thumped his clenched fists down on the steering wheel before waiting for the lights to change.

* * *

"You were lucky," the sheriff told her as he leisurely filled in the accident form.

"Lucky!" Kris tried to keep hold of her temper. "Someone tried to kill me."

The sheriff sucked the air in over his teeth, his eyes fixed on the form in front of him. "Now ma'am, nothing to be gained from jumping to conclusions."

"Jumping to conclusions!" Kris was on the brink of just walking out of the office. Not for the first time in the past hour, she wished that she'd gone back to Menzies rather than letting her rescuer drive her on to the next town. The reception in Newton couldn't have been more different. Her arrival had been treated as an inconvenience and it had taken a lot of persuasion on behalf of the tractor driver before the town doctor had agreed to give her a check up.

She glanced back over her shoulder at the man who was now screwing up his ball cap in his hands. She couldn't remember his name. She was certain that he'd told her what it was, but she had to confess that most of the time following the crash was little more than a blur. It had been a three hour drive, but she couldn't recall a single minute of it.

"Ma'am, you sure you want me to list the incident as deliberate?"

The slow drawl of the sheriff drew her attention back to the present. He was now leaning on the counter watching her, a bored expression on his face.

"Of course I'm sure. I..."

"Isn't it just possible that you lost control of the vehicle ma'am? It's not unknown for a young woman like yourself to lose her concentration."

Kris' anger was at boiling point. She narrowed her eyes. "I want to lodge the incident and I want the paperwork filled out before I leave."

The sheriff glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Well ma'am I don't rightly know that I'll be able to do all that if you're wanting to get the next flight." He looked disdainfully at her. "If you don't mind me saying ma'am, you don't look as though you belong in these parts."

Kris' patience snapped. "Fine," she raged at the sheriff. "Fine, let someone get away with trying to kill me. Wouldn't want you to actually have to do any work."

The sheriff straightened up and one hand went to the gun that was holstered at his side. Kris realised that she had over-stepped the mark. If she got on the wrong side of him, then it could be days before anyone was in a position to get her released.

"I'll go," she told him. "And I promise you that I won't be back."

"And the car ma'am? Who's going to pay for towing that away?"

Kris bit her tongue and stepped up to the counter. She pulled the pen from the sheriff's hands and scribbled on the incident sheet. "You can call this number and a man called John Bosley will sort out the details."

Without waiting to hear anything further from the man, she turned on her heel and stalked towards the door. She snatched her bag up from the floor and stormed out of the place. She could catch a cab to the next town where she could grab a flight to Barstow. Time wasn't on her side, so she decided that the best thing was to get underway. She could explain everything to the others when she got back to civilisation.

* * *

Sabrina slowed the car as she neared the base. Everything looked exactly as she remembered it. Her father had told her on more than one occasion that every base looked the same as far as he was concerned. She'd always privately disagreed with him. There were – to her mind at least – several things that made this particular base special. The family quarters were just off the main entrance, they weren't squirreled away at some remote corner as they had been at the other bases she'd lived on. She'd always felt that she was at the middle of what was going on at Barstow when she'd been there. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel; she'd always told herself that she'd never come back here; always promised that she'd never set foot within the barbed wire fence. She felt her heart-rate increase and goosebumps prickle her skin as she thought about the events that had taken place there.

She took a series of deep breaths. She could do this. Henry had mentioned George Martin, had stated that he'd died. She needed to get a hold of his records and a quick word with the general was the best way to achieve the results. She raised a hand and switched on the indicator – the constant ticking of the instrument immediately filling her head. She glanced in the rear view mirror as she approached the turn off and then checked the road ahead. It was clear. She checked the rear view again, and then continued on down the highway, tears forming at the corner of her eyes. She couldn't do it. She couldn't bring herself to approach the main gate. She put her foot down hard on the accelerator, determined to put as much distance between herself and the base as was possible.

* * *

As he stood in the phone booth, Jarek heard the frustration in Rivers' voice and wished that he had something more positive to tell his employer.

"I can only apologise," he repeated the phrase, hoping that it would do some good.

"I need to know who she is," Rivers growled down the phone. "If she is connected to the other two I need to know post-haste."

"She will return to Sullivan's apartment tomorrow. I will follow."

"Oh yes, yes you will. But forget the girl for now. There is a package that I need you to collect. You already know the address where it's been delivered. It appears that our two investigators are working together. I need you to get hold of that package."

"I understand."

"All costs Mr Lazic...I trust I am making myself clear?"

"Perfectly."

"I see that you understand. I appreciate your patience in the past few weeks. I am hoping that the waiting will soon be at an end. I just need to ensure that this particular piece of information finds its way to the correct pair of hands. I do not wish to leave anything to chance."

"I will not let you down," Jarek promised.

"I'm sure that you won't. No mistakes Mr Lazic. I can't afford mistakes at this stage."

"No mistakes," Jarek assured him.

There was a click and then the dial tone burred in Jarek's ear. He dropped the receiver and pulled open the phone booth door; the receiver swinging gently to and fro at the end of its metal cord as he departed.


	14. Chapter 14

The apartment had been in darkness when Sabrina returned. As she'd guessed, Kelly was out with Douglas and there was nothing but the television to keep her company. She'd cycled through the channels before deciding that there was nothing worth watching. The bottle of wine in the cupboard had been Kelly's purchase and she resolved to replace it at the first available opportunity. She poured herself a generous glass and then turned to look at the stack of files that still remained unread. She wondered briefly if George Martin merited a mention within them. It was becoming apparent that there were more people connected to the story than had been initially thought.

She kept coming back to the photograph that Henry had shown her in his apartment. She took in the relaxed expressions on the faces of the people; none of them having any idea that in a few short months seven of their number wouldn't be there. Try as she might, she couldn't look away from the scene.

She closed her eyes and then turned the photograph over, placing it face down on the table. It wasn't going to do anyone any good if she allowed herself to get maudlin and depressed. She'd tried writing a letter to her father the previous night, but had put it to one side after only completing a few scant lines. In her present mood the words just wouldn't come. She rose to her feet and collected the letter from her room, settling back down and reading through what she'd managed to put together. He deserved more from her, but she just couldn't add the words. Work had seemed a like a welcome distraction to her own problems, but the reality was that they were doing nothing to clear her mind. She composed herself, reaching for her glass of wine. She would finish the letter tonight; she owed her father that at the very least.

She paused mid-reach; her mind immediately switching back to thoughts of work. There was something about the photograph that didn't add up. She rifled through the files of those who'd lost their lives on the flight and flipped open the one for the pilot Brandon Wood. The face that stared back at her from the service file was completely different from the man who was pictured in the group shot. Henry had told her that they were a tight unit; that the ground and the air crew worked as a team. The pilot on the night of the flight wasn't the regular pilot. She had no idea who the man pictured was. She reached out for the phone and dialled Bosley. She hoped that it was too late for him to be at the office, but not too late for him to still be awake. When he answered rather hesitantly, she rather feared that she'd miss-timed the call.

"Bos?"

"Are you alright?" she immediately noticed the sense of urgency in his voice.

"I'm fine... I can call back tomorrow if this is inconvenient?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I'm awake now. What can I do for you?"

Pushing down her feelings of guilt she quickly summarised the problem. "K47 had a different pilot on the night of the crash. Can you call me up the file on the regular pilot and try and find out why he wasn't flying that night? I'll try and get that information from Henry, but he's not always willing to talk about the crash."

"Sure." There was a long pause on the end of the line. "How are things?"

"Fine Bos...honestly." When there was no reply from the other end, she knew that he wasn't convinced. "I'm fine Bosley. Sullivan's a tough old soldier but I think he's starting to get used to having me around."

There was another pause, longer this time. Sabrina closed her eyes in frustration. Bosley had been out to the base to talk to the general; that much she knew. She wondered just exactly what the good general had told him.

"Well... if you're sure you're alright?"

"Fine Bos," Sabrina replied firmly, not wanting to continue the conversation. "You call me when you find out anything."

She replaced the receiver and reached for her glass of wine, wanting to pretend that she hadn't just been rude to a friend. She had her own reasons for not wanting to be in Barstow; she didn't need to discuss those reasons with anyone.

She raised her head in frustration as she heard a knock at the door. Placing her glass back down on the table she rose to her feet. Resolving to have a word with Kelly about forgetting her keys she reached for the door.

It all happened so fast that Sabrina didn't have time to react. She was propelled backwards with force the moment that she opened the door a crack. As she attempted to regain her balance her world was suddenly sent into freefall. A searing pain flared from her right temple and everything around her blurred as she crashed to the floor.

* * *

Kelly smiled and sat back in her chair, happy to listen to Carl as he regaled her with another story about his time as a junior reporter. The man had ambition; that was beyond doubt. The stories he'd told her had all spoken of dedication to his job and to getting to the bottom of a story. She glanced quickly up at the clock on the wall and struggled to suppress a sigh. Time was marching on, and she knew that she ought to think about making a move. If she was honest with herself, then she wasn't really looking forward to getting back to the apartment. She knew that Bri would still be up, and she didn't think that she was ready to listen again to her friend's views about Carl.

Despite their very different backgrounds, Kelly had fallen into an easy friendship with both Jill and Sabrina when they had met at the Police Academy. United as they were by their desire to get through the training; all other differences seemed to fall by the wayside. Kelly had wondered if the three of them would have become friends if they'd met in some other avenue of life. There were times where Kelly felt as though Sabrina was quick to judge, and slow to forgive others. Of the three of them at the academy, she had always been the one who was first to stand up to anything that she thought was unfair, and not afraid to voice her displeasure. It had been great to have someone so keen to champion their rights, but there were times when Kelly had wished that they could have gone about solving their problems in a quieter way. It was Bri's snap decisions about people that she wasn't looking forward to hearing when she finally got back to the apartment. She knew that there was very little chance of getting through a conversation without Carl's name being brought up.

"Am I boring you?' the question fell from Carl's lips, and Kelly immediately blushed with embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry," she apologised quickly. "I just got to thinking about a friend of mine; one who's bound to start worrying soon about where I am."

Carl gestured towards the door. "I can drive you back any time that you like. You just have to say the word."

Kelly waved the offer away, and reached for her glass. "There's no rush," she smiled at him. "Is there?"

* * *

Sabrina struggled to make sense of what was going on. Her mind was racing, trying to process what had just happened. She was on the floor of the apartment, her head was pounding and she was not on her own. She attempted to gain control of her limbs and push herself up onto all fours to face the intruder, but he was way ahead of her.

"Oh no," he told her firmly as he drove his booted heel between her shoulder blades, forcing her back down onto the floor. Smoothly he sank down onto his knees, straddling her and pinning her in place. He fished out a length of rope from his jacket pocket and grabbed her left wrist.

"I prefer rope," he told her calmly as he expertly began lashing it around her wrist. "It's so much more personal than cuffs." He tutted as she attempted to struggle free. ""If you want me to break your wrist I will." He tightened the rope further and waited for her to yelp in pain. "That it hurts is your punishment for being ... uncooperative."

"Get off me." Sabrina finally found her voice and raged at the intruder.

Jarek laughed quietly at her actions as he grabbed hold of her other wrist and continued with his work. "Cuffs lack a certain elegance... a certain skill." Satisfied that he had her secure Jarek moved one gloved hand and gently caressed her neck. "I'm a professional: a master of my craft."

He smiled as she flinched at his touch and then pushed himself to his feet.

"Get up."

It was an order not a request.

Sabrina tried to ignore the pounding of her head and fought down the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her. The rope was biting into her wrists and any movement only seemed to intensify the pain. She shifted into a sitting position and looked up at the intruder for the first time. He was standing over her, his hands on his hips, making it very clear that he was in charge.

He had the bearing of a trained professional; his t-shirt deliberately tight across his well-muscled chest, the gun in the shoulder holster there as an added deterrent. His leather gloves ensuring that he'd leave no prints. His accent indicated that English was probably not his first language.

He looked down at her. "I said get up."

"I could yell and someone would have the cops here in minutes."

"And I could simply blow you away." He tilted his head to one side. "That would take... seconds. Choice is yours."

Sabrina looked at him. There was no room for discussion. She had the distinct impression that he was a man of his word. He certainly didn't look as though he'd have any compunction about killing her. She attempted to push herself up onto the couch, the rope biting further into her wrists as she moved.

"What do you want?"

"I said get up."

"I don't know who you think I am but..."

"You are of no importance."

"What do you..." Sabrina never had the chance to finish the sentence as the man stepped forward and backhanded her across the face, sending her crashing back to the floor.

"You will be silent," Jarek told her as he paced into the kitchen area and pulled one of the hard-backed chairs from under the table. He placed it in the middle of the main living area and then returned his attention to Sabrina. He grabbed her arm and yanked her roughly to her feet before pushing her down onto the chair. He pulled a shorter length of rope from his jacket.

"Lift your arms."

Sabrina did her best to comply but she wasn't fast enough for Jarek's liking. He pushed her forward and grabbed hold of her tightly bound wrists and pulled them over the back of the chair. He ignored the yelp of pain that she let out and set to work securing her to the chair.

When he was happy with his work he tested the knot and then leant his forearms on Sabrina's shoulders, bringing his head down until he could whisper in her ear. "You are wholly expendable. You'd better hope that your friend gets home soon, or I may just lose my patience."

Sabrina struggled to find a reply, but was unable to answer.

He straightened up, placing both hands on her shoulders and tightening his grip. Sabrina fought to stay still.

"Was expecting someone else," he told her, constantly altering the amount of pressure he was applying to her shoulders. "Heard you on the phone as I waited." The grip changed to a slow caress. "Imagine my surprise."

Sabrina bit her tongue. She knew what he was doing. He was letting her know in no uncertain terms that he was in control. His continual physical touch was a reminder of his current power over her. She tried to avoid flinching; avoid giving him the satisfaction of seeing that she was scared.

"So what were you doing?" He finally lifted his hands away from her shoulders and stepped away. He said nothing more. Still standing behind her, hidden in her blind spot.

Sabrina stared resolutely at the door in front of her.

He let out a low laugh. "Trying to play the cool customer, are we?" He paced around her, his eyes scanning the room, taking in the untidy piles of buff coloured folders. His eyes settled on the unfinished letter on the table. He picked it up and scanned through it. "Writing home?" he questioned.

Sabrina remained silent.

He sighed and approached her, crouching down until their faces were level. "If you want I can beat the information out of you. Seems a lot of effort for a few simple answers, but it's up to you." He scrunched the paper that he held in his hand and brought it up in front of her face. "Writing home?" There was menace in the voice this time.

Sabrina nodded; her mouth dry. "Uh huh," she finally managed.

He smiled. "That's better. Not so hard." He rose to his feet and flattened out the letter before proceeding to read through what was written. "Not going to be home this year..." he shook his head in mock disapproval as he once again began circling the chair. "Is that any way to show respect?"

Sabrina's eyes narrowed but she said nothing. A moment later she gasped in pain as a hand was wound tightly in her hair and her head pulled sharply back. "I asked you a question."

Sabrina gritted her teeth, trying not to cry out. "I'm working," she finally managed to master a reply. "I...I can't go home."

The grip was released and her head pushed forward again. "You have no respect."

"You don't know anything," she spat the words out, her emotions getting the better of her.

She heard him crouch down behind her, his right arm encircling her neck. "You tell me all about it," he whispered in her ear. "Tell me all the details whilst we wait for your friend."

He waited a few moments and then tightened his hold. "It wasn't a request...Tell me."


	15. Chapter 15

_**Two chapters in two days...what is going on? Well, couldn't leave you hanging now, could I!**_

* * *

Kelly drained the last of her coffee and placed the cup back down on the table. Dinner was coming to an end; she let out an involuntary sigh. It was a sigh that was immediately picked up by her companion.

"Something I said?"

Kelly blushed. "I'm sorry," she apologised. "I was just thinking that it was probably time I was getting back."

Carl grinned. "I wish we could both just take the rest of the week off."

"Maybe we could..." Kelly tailed off as she saw Carl shake his head. "You onto something?"

Carl tapped a finger to the side of his nose. "I can't tell you that just yet." He smiled. "Maybe I'll have news in a couple of days."

She watched him as he signed the check and failed to stop the smile that formed on her face. The more time she spent with him, the more she found herself liking him. The smile faltered briefly; she wasn't looking forward to the conversation that she was going to have with Sabrina when she got back. Her friend's attitude towards him was something she was going to try and change.

She rose to her feet and followed him from the restaurant.

Carl placed a hand on her arm to slow her down as they neared his car. She looked questioningly at him.

"What's up?"

"I'm hoping it's nothing," he told her honestly as he took a couple of paces forward.

The window of the driver's door had been smashed, small shards of glass were scattered across the interior of the car. Carl completed a slow circuit of the vehicle before crouching down and checking the underside.

"You have anything valuable in there?"

Carl shook his head at Kelly's question. "This wasn't about robbery," he told her tersely. "Someone was just making sure that I got a message." He reached into the car and lifted something from the front seat before he turned to face her.

Kelly shivered as she took in the sight of the rat that he held between his fingers. "You don't seem all that surprised?"

He shrugged his shoulders and dropped the dead rodent into the nearest trash can. "It's not the first time, and I'm sure it won't be the last. As threats go it's pretty lame."

"But who?"

"People trying to keep me from the truth," he told her matter-of-factly. "It's not the first time they've tried this."

"You know who they are?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. It's a side of my life that you're better off not knowing about" He opened the driver's door and began brushing the shards of glass away.

Kelly was surprised by Carl's calmness. "This sort of thing doesn't bother you?"

Carl laughed. "It's one way of finding out that I'm near the truth." He shrugged his shoulders. "I've got a pretty good idea who sent it, and I'm going to get even with them, don't you worry." He straightened up. "There, good as new."

Kelly looked levelly at him. "You're not going to do anything reckless, are you?"

The smile remained on Carl's face. "Don't worry. I know how to take care of myself." He gestured towards the car. "Your carriage awaits."

* * *

Jarek flicked idly through one of the files as he relaxed on the sofa, raising his head once in a while to glance at Sabrina. He let the file close and pressed a finger to his lips as he heard movement in the corridor outside. With his free hand he drew his gun from its holster levelled it at Sabrina.

She watched mutely as he approached her, fixing a silencer to the gun as he moved. He pressed the end of the extended barrel into the hollow at the base of her throat and then placed his finger to his lips again. He had done this every time that there had been a sound from the corridor. This time however the footsteps didn't carry on past the door. Sabrina could see shapes through the narrow gap at the bottom of the door and then heard the sound of a purse being opened.

She wanted to shout out, to warn Kelly to run, but she said nothing. He would simply shoot her and then shoot Kelly. He moved silently behind her and untied the rope that held her to the chair, hauling her roughly to her feet and pushing her forward a pace before forcing her down on her knees, his fingers digging into her shoulder. She felt the barrel of the silencer as he placed the gun to the back of her head.

Kelly pushed open the door to the apartment, relieved to finally be back. She didn't mind admitting that she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than a few good hours of sleep. She closed the door behind her and reached for the light switch.

"Stay exactly where you are." She flinched in fright as a voice broke the silence in the room. It was calm and authoritative despite the heavy European accent. "That way nobody gets hurt."

Instinctively she reached for the zipper on her purse. There was the sound of movement and then a dull thud followed by a gasp of pain.

"Trust me," the man's voice had a touch of impatience. "I'm not playing games here."

Kelly's eyes quickly became accustomed to the gloom and she felt her heart spike in fear as she took in the scene.

Sabrina was on her knees, her wrists secured behind her back; a man's hand tightly gripping her right shoulder. His left hand held a revolver that was placed at the back of her friend's head.

"I know you are carrying. Open the bag and put the gun on the floor," the man told her calmly.

When she hesitated, he tightened his grip on Sabrina's shoulder, and Kelly watched as her friend winced in pain, and tried unsuccessfully to shift away from him.

"Ok, Ok," Kelly replied softly. "Don't do anything hasty."

She slowly reached into the bag that was still slung over her shoulder and withdrew her gun.

"Lose the bullets then put the gun on the floor...Slowly, or your friend dies."

Kelly opened up the chambers on the 38 she was now holding and let the bullets drop into the palm of her hand. Making a show of every move, she placed both bullets and gun on the floor.

Satisfied that she was disarmed, the man hauled Sabrina to her feet. "I want the tape" he told her brusquely, ignoring the brief struggle as he secured a tight hold on his charge and made certain that she was in no position to escape.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The man shifted his hold on Sabrina, wrapping one hand around her throat.

"Lie to me, and your friend will be the one to suffer."

Kelly hesitated momentarily and Jarek immediately tightened his grip, his fingers digging into Sabrina's throat.

Kelly swore beneath her breath as she heard Sabrina gasp for air. "Alright, alright. No games." She waited, and was relieved when the hand around her friend's throat was loosened.

He stared straight at her, his eyes seeming to bore into her. "The choice is now yours," he told her as he gently caressed Sabrina's neck, running his hand across her throat and then her collarbone before gripping her shoulder. He smiled as he felt her flinch beneath his touch.

"The more you lie, the greater the chance that I will crush your friend's windpipe. It's not the most pleasant way to die." He paused. "The Tape...now. I know it was sent to you. I know it arrived this afternoon."

Kelly shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

Jarek looked at her sadly. "I did warn you."

Kelly heard the yelp from Sabrina as the man's hand returned to her throat. He forced her head back this time and his grip seemed to be increasing as Sabrina struggled to get away from him.

"I'm sorry," she tried to apologise, but her words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"You were warned," Jarek reminded her again.

Sabrina's struggles became more desperate as she fought to breathe, her feet barely maintaining contact with the ground.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the words were wrenched from her throat.

Jarek relaxed his grip a little and Sabrina was able to get a little more air into her lungs.

"I don't want your apologies...I just want the tape that you have."

"It's not here...It's in the other room." She explained quickly as she noticed the way that the man's hand again tightened around Sabrina's throat.

"You'd best get it," he told her. "But in case you are thinking of doing something stupid." He paused and then released his hand from Sabrina's throat. As her head moved forward to gulp in much needed air, he clamped his hand over her nose and mouth, pulling her tightly back against his chest. "An average person can hold their breath for about two minutes and your friend here didn't have much chance to prepare. I'd say the clock was ticking...wouldn't you?"

Kelly watched as Sabrina fought against the smothering hold the man had on her; her frantic struggles making it clear that she was unable to breathe. Fear motivated Kelly into action and she hurried into the nearest bedroom, emerging moments later with an envelope. She held it out to him with shaking hands. "It's here. Now just..."

"Ah ah," he warned her. "You're not the one giving the orders." He nodded in the direction of the envelope. "Open it."

Kelly looked nervously at Sabrina before ripping the top of the envelope open and taking the small square box out.

"Show me the tape."

Kelly fumbled with the box briefly before the reel was revealed.

He nodded in satisfaction. "Play it."

"I don't have anything to ..." she tailed off as she noticed the way that Sabrina renewed her fight against her captor. "Please. Just take the tape. It's what you wanted."

Jarek effortlessly held Sabrina close, increasing his hold as her body cried out for air and she bucked and struggled against him. "I want to make sure you understand I'm not playing here."

"I understand," Kelly told him, her tone now desperate. "You've made your point."

"This isn't what I want and I kill her. You understand me?"

"Yes. Yes I understand."

"This turns out to be fake and I will be back and will finish the job." His voice was calm, his intent clear. "Maybe next time it will be much more painful." He smiled at Kelly. "I am a man of my word."

Sabrina's struggles became more and more desperate. "One way or another I think our time is almost up," Jarek told her with no trace of emotion in his voice. "Bring the tape here and place it on the table."

Kelly hastily complied with his instructions, her eyes nervously watching her friend as her efforts to free herself seemed to suddenly lessen.

"Now step back...further back."

Kelly raised her hands, showing that she was willing to comply with his demands.

Sabrina's eyes which had been wide with fear were now starting to close, her struggles ceasing entirely, her body only being held up by the tight hold that the intruder had on her.

"You've got the damn tape," Kelly pleaded with him. "Now just go."

"You make any effort to follow me and I will return and I will kill her."

His final warning given he released his hold on Sabrina and she collapsed to the floor, her body starting to convulse as she gasped for air.

Jarek snatched the tape box from the table and then backed towards the door, covering Kelly with his gun. When he was certain that she wasn't going to attempt to stop him, he turned and bolted from the room.

Kelly was at Sabrina's side in seconds, reaching for the rope that bound her wrists. Sabrina gulped in the much needed oxygen.

"...Door..." she finally managed to force the word out, nodding in the direction of the departing man.

Kelly shook her head. "You heard what he said. I go after him and he'll kill you." She struggled with the well-tied rope. "I had the distinct feeling that he meant what he said." She cursed with frustration as the knots refused to budge. "I can't do this," she admitted. "This is going to need a knife."

She placed a hand on Sabrina's shoulder to check for herself that her friend really was okay. She tried not to react as her touch was shied away from. "You ok?"

Sabrina closed her eyes and nodded, discomfort still etched on her features. She moved her arms impatiently.

"I'll get a knife." Kelly understood her silent demand and headed into the kitchen area, pulling open the drawer and looking for a suitable knife. The intruder, whoever he was, was professional. The knot binding the rope was so tight she couldn't pick it. It had – she suspected – been chosen on purpose to cause maximum discomfort. The thought angered her. How long had Sabrina been there with the man, waiting for her to come back? She had been enjoying an evening out and all the time Sabrina had been there...anything could have happened. She took a steadying breath and then hurried back to Sabrina's side and began working on the rope. She winced as she saw how it was biting into her skin. It had to hurt but Sabrina said nothing...made no sound or complaint as she continued with her task.

Finally the knife did its job and Kelly gently began loosening the loops of rope. Sabrina pulled away from her, shaking her arms in an effort to speed up the process, ignoring the fact that she was likely to exacerbate her existing injuries. She hissed in pain but refused any further help. Kelly bit back her frustration. There were times when her friend's stubbornness could be maddening.

"What the hell was that about?" Sabrina finally spoke. Her words were hesitant, her voice rasping.

Kelly shook her head and tried to help her to her feet, but Sabrina waved her away and stayed where she was on the floor, one hand gently probing her neck to feel where the bruises were going to form.

"How could he know that I had the tape?" Kelly questioned, not liking the way that Sabrina was refusing help. "No-one else knew that it was here."

"Well that's obviously not the case," Sabrina corrected her. "**He** certainly knew it was here...which is more than I did."

Kelly's eyes rested on the bloodied raw marks on Sabrina's wrists. "You need to get those looked at."

Sabrina shrugged off the suggestion. "When was this tape delivered?"

"This afternoon as I was leaving." She glanced sideways at her friend, not wanting to reveal the deceit she'd attempted. "It was in my bag." There was no reaction to her admission. "We need to call the police..." she tailed off as she saw Sabrina shake her head. "We have to tell them..."

"And blow this whole thing wide open?" Sabrina swallowed and immediately winced. "No can do," she added in a whisper. "What was on this tape anyway?"

"Kris didn't say much in her note. It was left in her car and she believed that it was important."

Sasbrina frowned. "Bang goes our chance of finding out what was actually on it."

"I had to give him the tape," Kelly reminded her. "He was going to kill you."

She noted the way that her friend flinched and immediately regretted her rather blunt response. She watched the way that Sabrina clenched her fists tightly. This wasn't an encounter that she was simply going to gloss over. She wondered just how long the man had been in the apartment for before she arrived on the scene. Now wasn't the time to push for answers, but the subject would have to be broached.

She watched as Sabrina glanced down at her wrists as if noticing the damage for the first time. "I need to get cleaned up," she muttered and headed in the direction of the bathroom.

Kelly wanted to call after her and offer to help, but she knew that her efforts would be brusquely rebuffed. "I'm calling Bosley... and I'm not taking no for an answer on that," she called after her.

When Sabrina said nothing, Kelly crossed the room and reached for the phone.


	16. Chapter 16

_**A long overdue thank you to those who read and review. It does make a difference knowing that you're out there and still with me on this. Thanks for your kind words and your patience. (I worked a lot on the last paragraph of this chapter...Hope you like it.)**_

* * *

Kelly opened the door to Bosley and beckoned him over the threshold.

"How is she?"

Kelly pulled a face. She'd explained the situation to Bosley as quickly as she could on the phone, but she still wasn't sure that he fully understood exactly what had happened

"She's just behind me, and she's not being herself."

Bosley winced as he heard Kelly's hushed tones. He mouthed an apology and then breezed past her.

"Good evening, good evening," he greeted them both jovially. "Or should that be good morning?"

He waited for a response from Sabrina, but she remained standing at the window, her arms folded tightly across her chest. He glanced back over his shoulder and exchanged a look with Kelly.

She shrugged her shoulders and then gestured for him to carry on.

"I can see you you know," Sabrina told them both in a quiet tone. "There's no need for the bad mime act; I'm fine."

"Kelly said that you were hurt," there was concern in Bosley's tone but Sabrina shrugged off the question.

"Just some thug. What bothers me more is what he was looking for. He knew about Kelly and he knew that the tape was here."

Bosley frowned. "He knew who you were? That doesn't sound good."

Sabrina shook her head impatiently. "I said he knew who Kelly was... I was just ...expendable."

Bosley exchanged another look with Kelly as he heard the edge in Sabrina's voice. "But he knew the tape was here?"

Kelly nodded. "It's the reason he came here." She paused. "I want to know how he knew about it. I tried to call Kris but the manager at the hotel said that she checked out yesterday."

"I'll get the word out at the airport and local police; make sure that people are on the look out for her. In the meantime, I need to make sure that the two of you are safe."

"We're fine Bos," Sabrina called out to him in a tired voice from her place at the window. "The guy got what he came for... he's long gone."

"Right," Bosley looked around the room. "Where are they?"

"What?"

"Your cases. There's no way that the two of you are staying here. We need to get you both to another apartment."

Sabrina shook her head. "He's gone Bos. There's no way that he's coming back here tonight."

"I'm sorry; I'm just not willing to take that chance. Charlie would never forgive me... more importantly I'd never forgive myself."

Sabrina shook her head forcefully. "It's not happening."

"This is non-negotiable. We are leaving and we are leaving here now."

Sabrina spun round to face Bosley; her eyes blazing with anger. "The hell we are. This...This thug... He's not scaring me out of here."

"No he's not," Bosley told her softly, his tone immediately losing its previous edge. "I'm making a personal request. I'd sleep in the doorway if I thought that that would keep him away. This is for your safety and my sanity."

Kelly watched the conversation that was playing out in front of her wondering which way Sabrina would go. She was tense; obviously still coming to terms with the events of the evening and she wasn't entirely convinced that she'd give in quietly. It just wasn't in her friend's nature to walk away from the fight.

"Please," Bos tried to reason with her. "I'm not going to be able rest easy until I know that both of you are safe."

Sabrina let out a slow breath and clasped both hands to her face. Finally she let them drop to her side. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about," he assured her. "Let's just get you both out of here." He stopped short of telling her that she needed to have the damage to her wrists looked at. That would be a subject that he'd tackle in the morning if she hadn't already seen sense.

* * *

Jack Falcone stabbed at the buttons on the tape player and the machine came to a halt with a clunk. The silence in the room was deafening.

Falcone rounded on the man who had brought him the tape. "What is this? What the hell is this?" Jarek shrugged his shoulders and Falcone swore beneath his breath. "I pay you good money Mr Lazic; sometimes I think it is perhaps too generous." One finger pointed rigidly in the direction of the tape. "That is not what I asked for."

"I can only bring what I am given."

Falcone narrowed his eyes. "And you didn't think to check the merchandise before leaving with it?"

"They had no machine." Jarek shrugged his shoulders again. "I will go back there. I have a score to settle. I promise the woman that her friend will die if she lies to me. She lied."

Falcone shook his head. "That can wait...We don't have time for your personal vendettas."

"My word is everything," Jarek countered. "And I have seen the face of this other woman before. Douglas had photographs of her in his apartment. I think she is the woman who has been visiting with Sullivan."

Falcone was suddenly interested. "You sure?"

Jarek nodded. "The apartment. I saw files with Sullivan's picture in. She is more than she seems."

"I would say from your news that they both are." Falcone drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk. "Some young woman asks questions in Menzies, and sends a tape to her friend who 'just happens' to be seeing Douglas. Add in a third woman who is showing interest in the case and I say that we have a few problems that need to be ironed out."

Jarek folded his arms. "I have a promise I must keep."

"And you can keep that promise. I just need to sort this little situation out first." He smiled at Jarek. "You are lucky that I had a back-up plan. The real tape will be in my hands by the end of the day." He gestured towards the door. "That is twice you have let me down Mr Lazic. I shouldn't like it if you were to do it a third time."

Jarek paced towards the exit, trying to keep a lid on his temper. Falcone called out to him as he pulled open the door.

"I think it's time you upped the pressure on Sullivan. I know what I said before, but it looks as though things are becoming a little more complicated."

Jarek turned. "I have a free hand?"

"No-one dies yet Mr Lazic."

Jarek nodded in understanding and departed without saying anything further.

* * *

Kelly glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table and groaned. It was a little after four. Bosley had managed to get them into another apartment by two, and Kelly had hoped that she'd be able to grab a handful of hours of uninterrupted sleep before morning. Her brain however was refusing to let her relax.

Her thoughts went immediately to Sabrina. She had said nothing on the drive across town. There was nothing she or Bosley could do to rouse her from her from her self-imposed silence. She'd disappeared into a room before either of them could say anything and hadn't re-emerged

Bosley had been concerned, and if it wasn't for her own tiredness she would willingly have sat down and talked her thoughts through with him. He'd reluctantly left, but only after she'd promised him that she'd call if there was anything he could do.

She pushed back the covers. Maybe a glass of milk would help.

Making her way across to the kitchen, Kelly reached out for the light switch and waited for the flickering strip light to settle down and flood the area with light.

She jumped and bit back an exclamation of surprise as the light revealed the outline of a person who was standing motionless by the window.

"Bri, what are you doing standing in the dark?" she chastised as she recognised the stationary figure. "You scared years off me."

"Mmm?" came the quiet response. Sabrina's thoughts were obviously somewhere else entirely and she seemed only barely aware of Kelly's presence.

Kelly frowned, as her friend remained standing at the window, staring out at the lights of the city.

"You ok?" she asked softly, dropping the level of her voice.

"Fine." Sabrina's voice was husky and did nothing to convince Kelly that she was telling the truth.

"Can I get you anything?" She gestured around the kitchen. "It's not exactly overflowing with riches, but I'm sure I can rustle something up."

Sabrina waved the offer away, still not turning her gaze from the window. "I'm fine, really. Go back to bed."

Kelly poured herself a glass of milk and flicked off the light in the kitchen, plunging the apartment back into darkness. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the gloom, and when she was sure that she could make the route without falling over the furniture, she made her way to the window and stood beside Sabrina.

She followed her friend's gaze and took in the bright lights of the city below; watching the headlights from the cars and buses as they made their way across town.

"It's been a hell of a day," she remarked gently, trying to find a way into the conversation.

Sabrina shrugged her shoulders noncommittally and kept her attention fixed on the sight before her.

Kelly watched as Sabrina wrapped her arms around herself. Her face betraying no emotion.

"Henry talks about not wanting to be a hero; about wanting to go around like the folks down there without a care in the world. It's as though he forgets that we all have things we carry around with us. Not all of them have the kind of baggage that he has, but we all have something."

Kelly opened her mouth to say something further but had to admit that she was at a loss as to what to say. It wasn't like Bri to be so shut off and withdrawn. If there was one thing she could rely on her friend for, it was to speak her mind. She wondered just what had happened to shake Sabrina up.

The two stood in silence for a full minute and it was Sabrina who eventually broke the silence.

"I think I now understand a little of what Henry says when he says that he hates people talking about events they don't and can't understand." She clenched her fists. "He spoke about her as though he knew her...made me talk about her. He had no right."

Kelly said nothing...hearing the underlying anger in Sabrina's voice and knowing that she needed to work through it. The 'he' in question she realised must be the intruder and not Henry.

"I feel as though in some way I've betrayed her. To hear him telling me that I had no respect..." she faltered as her emotions got the better of her. She shook her head and Kelly had the sneaking suspicion that she was blinking back tears. "He had no right ... no right."

Kelly wished that she knew what to say, but was at a loss for words.

"I send flowers ever year; I guess it's dumb really," she sighed. "It's not as though she knows." Sabrina shook her head slightly, moving her hair away from her eyes. "I remember the first anniversary after she died, I took the flowers to her grave myself - nearly scared my father half to death. The school phoned him to say that I'd disappeared and then I turned up home three days later with no money and only the clothes I stood up in. I remember the look on his face as he opened the door and saw me standing there bedraggled on the doorstep. I wasn't sure if he wanted to hug me or hit me."

Kelly smiled sadly as she finally realised what Sabrina must be talking about.

"I had no idea of the panic that I'd caused; there were police out looking for me, not to mention the MPs and guys in my dad's unit." Sabrina turned her head and smiled at Kelly. "I'm not even sure how I managed to get all the way there and back with the money I had. It wasn't enough to get me there, let alone enough for a return trip. But I had to go... I just had to go. I don't think he ever did understand why."

Kelly met her friend's gaze and tried to find the right words to say.

"He didn't know what to say to me," Sabrina continued with her story; her attention now fixed at some indeterminate point in the distance, recalling the memory. "I stood there in the doorway, and he just stared at me. Eventually, it was one of the neighbours who came over and looked after us both. I remember that meal so well... the awkwardness of it... Three of us sat there in stony silence; the neighbour too scared to leave in case my dad did anything." She dropped her eyes down and twisted one of the rings she wore on her right hand. "He wouldn't of course... he's never been that sort of man... ahh but he was so mad with me... so scared that maybe I'd had an accident and he'd lost me as well." She let out a short laugh and shook her head; the moment lost. "Look at me going on. Of all people, you've got more reason to…"

"It's different for me," Kelly cut across Sabrina's attempted apology, surprised that her friend had let her guard down. "I never knew my mother. I didn't have anything to miss in the first place."

"Forgive me," Sabrina told her quietly. "It was thoughtless." She fell silent and quietly stepped away from Kelly, ensuring that her friend couldn't reach out and stop her. She turned and walked away, effectively ending the conversation before Kelly could say anything more.

Kelly watched her go. She'd never heard Sabrina talk so openly about her mother's death before. It had been a subject that had come up once when they were at the academy, but something she'd never talked about at length. She had always been quick to switch the focus of the conversation back to someone else and deflect attention away. She struggled to think of another time when Sabrina had mentioned her home life and drew a blank. There had always been stories about school, and little quips about her father and his military attitude to the world, but as she thought about it, there had been no mention of what it was actually like to be constantly moving from one place to another, or how she had felt growing up without her mother. She herself had told some stories about her childhood but there were certain things she kept to herself. She pushed her sense of unease to one side. There was no difference between her reticence and Sabrina's she told herself, although she knew that that wasn't strictly true.

She'd mentioned the intruder making her tell him about her mother. Just what had happened before she'd arrived home? When the case was over she was going to make certain that Sabrina faced up to whatever had happened. Now, now was not the time. For now she'd allow her to bury the emotion and deal with the matter at hand, but when the dust had settled... then there would be a reckoning.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Thanks LA and Garmun for the reviews for the last chapter – it was probably my favourite chapter to date in terms of character. **_

* * *

Kelly stifled a yawn as she poured herself a glass of orange juice. The morning had come calling far too soon for her liking. She replaced the carton in the fridge and then rubbed her tired eyes. She didn't want to admit it, but she felt as though late nights in the week were beginning to become more than she could comfortably handle. She shrugged the thought off, picked up her glass and headed across the apartment to the tall window. As she stood there taking the warm rays of the rising sun, she couldn't help but think back to the events of the previous night.

She glanced around at the room, reaffirming that Sabrina had already left for the day. She briefly wondered if her friend had managed any sleep at all before heading back out to Sullivan's place.

She thought back to earlier conversation and couldn't recall ever seeing her colleague so pre-occupied before. She was certain that Henry Sullivan was, at least in part, the cause of her friend's melancholy mood, and she wondered just what sort of conversations the two of them were having. Sabrina had never been one to open up to the others. It wasn't until Sabrina moved into her own apartment that she or Jill had any idea that there was anything seriously wrong in the Duncan household. It was something that frustrated both of them at times, but it was the way Sabrina was, and they did their best to be there on the rare occasions when she did let them in.

Kelly sighed and took another sip of her drink as she stared out at the commuters below as they bustled on their way into work. Somewhere down there Carl Douglas was heading out for another day of work. Until he rang her again, there was little that she could do to move things along. With the way that things had ended the previous evening she was fairly certain that he would try and call. They had enjoyed each other's company and she was sure that he had enjoyed the opportunity of talking to someone about the book that he was working on. He didn't trust her enough to tell her everything, but the relationship was building.

There was the immediate pang of guilt as she thought about the matter. There were times when it just didn't seem right to mislead people in order to gain information. She knew it was part of the job, but when you got to know someone it was hard to remind yourself that you had to keep lying to them.

She pushed the thought away. Although she didn't want to think about it, there was a chance that he'd been behind what had happened the night before. She'd managed to keep her address hidden from him, but it wouldn't have taken much for a journalist of his calibre to track her down.

Reluctantly, she turned away from the window and paced back across the room. There were still some of the original crash investigation files to work through. Until she heard anything from Carl then there was time to work through those. There was a chance that there would be something in there that would give them a clue about what was happening now. It was a slim chance, but one that had to be investigated nonetheless. She came to a halt as a thought struck her. There was another file she could call up; another mystery she could solve whilst she bided her time. She tried to shake the thought off, but found that it just wouldn't leave her alone. She reached for the phone.

* * *

Sabrina locked the door of the Pinto and turned to regard Henry. "Are you sure you got everything?"

Henry looked at the bags that surrounded him. "Yep," he answered without a hint of sarcasm. "I think we got it all." He watched as she shook her head in disbelief before bending down to pick up her share of the brown bags. "C'mon," he chided her. "It's not every day that I get a lift to the supermarket."

Sabrina rolled her eyes as she struggled to balance the bags she held in her arms. When she'd asked him what it was he wanted to do that morning, she hadn't been expecting him to request a shopping trip. "Exactly when was the last time you did a major shop like this?" she demanded to know as the bags threatened to topple from her arms again.

Henry shrugged his shoulders. "It's not easy getting this much when you have to get the bus." He caught the look of surprise that crossed her face. "Car's in the shop," he hastily told her. "The old crate seems to spend most of its time there."

Sabrina thought about asking him why he didn't just get the mechanics on the base to fix it, but then thought better of it. She hastily readjusted the position of the bags as one of them threatened to fall from her grasp. "I think we'd better get inside..."

"You sure you're ok with those?"

"Fine...so long as we don't spend too long out here." She nodded down at one of the bags. "There's frozen stuff here that's starting to feel decidedly un-frozen."

Henry opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. Sabrina was thankful for his discretion. She'd spent the trip around the store trying to dodge every enquiry he tried to make regarding the bandages that covered her wrists and the bruises that were starting to show on her neck. She knew that she was being unfair to Henry; expecting him to open up to her, when she was shutting out every attempt that he made to find out what had happened. She wasn't ready to talk about the previous night; not to Henry, not to anybody. The mere thought of it caused anger to rise and she couldn't afford to lose her concentration.

* * *

From his seat Carl raised the camera and fired off another couple of shots. The brunette who had claimed to be Sullivan's niece was back at his apartment. When he'd spoken to Sullivan's ex-wife she'd implied that that the old man had all but cut ties with his family. In fact she'd gone further; she'd told him that she was the only person that he was still in touch with; that she was the one who he'd ring when he felt the need to talk.

Carl lowered the camera and watched as the woman struggled with the front door. There was always a chance that she was Sullivan's niece, but he wasn't about to take that at face value. The explanation that he was piecing together made more sense. She was no more related to Sullivan than he was. The CIA had heard about his book and they were determined to keep him from the truth. She was there to ensure that he didn't get any closer to finding out what had really happened that night. He glanced down at his watch. He had a lunchtime meeting with the man he was paying to follow her. He was supposed to have information by today, and Carl was keen to know if the information would reveal that she had been the one to go through his apartment.

The meeting meant that he couldn't see Kelly and that was regrettable, but there was still the evening, and he was certain that she'd accept his call when he rang. He raised his camera and focussed in on the woman, making sure she was centre frame before he fired off another shot.

* * *

The lift finally reached the fifth floor and came to a shuddering halt. Sabrina winced as the doors creaked open, metal scraping against metal as the heavy doors slid slowly open. She wondered when the building had last had an inspection. She decided that it was safer not to ask and so simply waited for Henry to bustle his way out into the corridor before following him.

Almost immediately she stopped in her tracks and stared down the corridor towards Henry's apartment.

"Did you lock the door before you left?" she asked in a quiet tone.

"Of course. If I didn't then Missy would get loose." Henry peered over her shoulder and caught sight of the apartment door that was sitting slightly ajar. "What the…"

"Stay here," she told him firmly and lowered the brown bags to the floor before unzipping the bag she was carrying on her shoulder. Pulling her revolver free she let the bag drop to the floor.

Moving silently on the balls of her feet, Sabrina made her way towards the door. She pressed herself up against the doorframe and checked the gap in the door from top to bottom, looking for any tell-tale signs of a booby trap. Spotting nothing, she turned back to Henry and indicated that he should step out of the way. Satisfied that he was now out of the firing line of anyone in the hallway she pushed open the front door.

The hallway was in semi-darkness and she couldn't make out any sound. She padded silently forward, keeping the gun trained on the space in front of her, ready to move at the slightest sound.

Nothing looked out of place; there weren't the tell-tale signs of a burglary. All the apartment doors were closed, and nothing looked as though it had been moved.

"I thought I told you to stay put," Sabrina growled as she heard Henry move to stand behind her.

"It's my apartment," he hissed back defensively.

"I'll remember to mention that to Charlie when he asks me how you got yourself shot!" she told him tartly as she pushed open the door to the living room and darted round the corner, checking that all was clear.

Pushing open the swing door to the kitchen, Sabrina darted in through the gap and quickly scanned the room, searching for signs of any intruder. Her eyes quickly locked onto the object that was lying in the middle of the tiled floor.

"Oh my God," she whispered under her breath and quickly turned to try and prevent Henry from seeing what was there.

Henry had heard the exclamation and was trying to force his way past.

"Don't," Sabrina told him, and the tone of her voice made him halt.

"It's Missy, isn't it?"

She didn't answer straight away but the look on her face was enough to tell Henry that he'd guessed correctly. Her suspicions had been aroused when there had been no sound from the dog as she entered the apartment.

"Let me see her."

"No." Sabrina shook her head and tried to manoeuvre Henry away from the door.

"I've got a right," he told her forcefully and pushed her back out of the way.

He made his way slowly to the blood-soaked still form that lay in the middle of the kitchen floor.

There was a scrabbling and a whining sound from the storage closet. Tentatively, Henry reached out and opened the closet door; Missy forced way out the moment that the door started to open. She whimpered and immediately sought reassurance from Henry.

Sabrina glanced again at the body that was in the middle of the floor. "You want to get Missy out of here?" She nodded towards the living room.

Henry wordlessly led the dog out of the room.

Sabrina took a deep breath and continued her search of the apartment. She was fairly certain that the place was empty and that they'd already discovered the rather gruesome message that had been left for them, but she had to be certain.

It only took a few minutes to complete the search and then she returned to the kitchen and the dead Labrador. The blood was starting to congeal and so she reasoned that the intruder must have entered the place moments after they'd left. The thought made her shiver. They'd been watched; it was the only way that the intruder – whoever they were – would know when to gain access. Her thoughts darted immediately to Carl Douglas; the man, according to Henry, was always hanging around. She pushed open the swing door and entered the living room, making straight for the tall window on the far side. From her vantage point she easily spotted Douglas's car. She swore beneath her breath as she tried to work out the best thing to do.

"We have to get you out of here," she told Henry firmly, making her way back to the hall, and picking up her purse from where she'd dropped it.

"The hell we do," Henry shouted after her, dragging his eyes away from the body of the dog. "What sort of sick bastard does something like this?"

"Look it's obvious that the campaign against you has just been stepped up. It's too dangerous for you to stay here," she explained.

Henry moved swiftly down the hall and placed his hand over Sabrina's, forcing the receiver she was holding back onto its cradle before she could finish dialling the number.

"You're not moving me anywhere," he told her. "This is my apartment and no-one is forcing me out of it."

Sabrina lifted her eyes and met Henry's determined gaze. "Let me call someone to take care of the dog." She saw the uncertainty in his eyes. "You shouldn't have to deal with that….then we'll talk about what's going to happen next."

After a few moments Henry relented and took a pace back.

"Sorry," he told her gruffly. "I'm just not letting some jumped up young punk thinking that they've forced me out of my own place."

"I'm going to have to phone this in," she warned him. "I have to tell the others what's going on."

"And are they going to cluck around me like some kind of old mother hen as well?"

"Probably," she told him curtly, and swiftly lifted the receiver from its cradle.


	18. Chapter 18

Once she'd finished the call, Sabrina joined Henry in the living room. He was sat hunched over on the sofa, nursing a glass of neat scotch, Missy curled up at his feet.

Crossing the room, she closed the inter-connecting door to the kitchen before addressing him.

"You're determined to stay here?"

Henry raised his head. "No-one's scaring me out of my apartment."

"Then I can come up with only one viable solution…" She paused. "…I move in."

She waited for a reaction and wasn't surprised by the outburst that followed.

"I'm not some child that needs watching," he told her angrily.

"But you are someone I'm being paid to protect, and I'm not prepared to go back to General Warner and tell him that I'm happy with the security set up here."

"I could just throw you out," he threatened.

Sabrina tilted her head slightly to one side. "I'd like to see you try."

An uneasy silence fell upon the room.

"Tell you what," Sabrina broke the deadlock. "This isn't going to get us anywhere. Whether you like it or not, you need someone watching your back. If you're not happy with me doing that, then I can arrange for one of my colleagues or Bosley to come here instead." She crossed the room and crouched down next to Henry. "Just let us do our job, huh? It may surprise you but we don't want to see anything happen to you."

Henry raised his eyes from the scotch glass and met Sabrina's beseeching gaze.

"Ok," he told her gruffly. "You can stay…Just don't mess with any of my stuff."

"Hey," she admonished him. "I'm the house guest; I don't expect to be lifting a finger!"

* * *

Carl drummed his fingers impatiently on the cracked surface of the table. The coffee he'd ordered in the diner was now getting cold, and the man he was meeting was now twenty minutes late. He glanced up needlessly at the clock on the wall, knowing full well the time that it was going to show him. He had things that he needed to do.

He raised his head as a shadow fell across the table. "About time," he muttered as the man he was waiting for slid into the opposite side of the booth. "You any idea how long I've had to sit in this dump?"

There was silence from the other side of the table.

"Come on Tony, I don't have all day. What do you have for me?"

The man pulled the ball cap from his head, revealing the bruising that was starting to show around his eyes and the jagged cut that marked his cheek. "You can keep your work man. I don't want another day of it. Pay me what you owe me and then that's it...I'm done."

Carl's eyes widened in surprise. "What the hell happened to you?"

"You tell me." There was anger in Tony's voice. "A simple trail job you said. A simple follow and find out where this broad lives, no problems, straight in and out." He lent forward and pointed at the swelling beneath his eye. "This look like no problems to you?"

Carl shook his head, struggling to work out what had happened. "Did she..."

Tony swore beneath his breath. "This wasn't her man. This was the guy she's got protecting her from the likes of you and me. Nearly ran me off the road when I was trying to follow her home the other night. Then he corners me today when I visit the apartment and decides that he needs to do this to put me off."

Carl indicated that the man should slow down. "Back up a little. You say that he's protecting her... Sullivan's niece?"

"He wasn't real chatty," Tony remarked sarcastically. "And I wasn't in the mood to ask questions whilst he was kicking me to the ground. Got the message real clear, didn't need to hear a whole bunch of words."

Carl sat back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. "So I was right... she's government... got to be. Why the hell else has she got some stooge hanging around putting off people when they get too close?" He let out a long breath. "Man; I'm really onto something here... really onto something."

Tony pulled a face as he took in the obvious elation on Carl's face. "Glad you find this all so fascinating."

Carl quickly apologised. "This proves I'm onto something. There's been stuff going on at Sullivan's place ever since she turned up." He found that he couldn't suppress the smile on his face. "I'll pay you what I promised, and if anything more comes of it, I'll throw in a bonus as well."

"Yeah. Well you won't find her at the address I gave you." He looked at the slightly surprised expression on Carl's face. "Oh no, it's not just rent-a-thug, they must have known she was being followed. The place was empty when I went there today. A ten spot to the concierge told me that they cleared out of there in the early hours of the morning."

Carl's interest ratcheted up again. "Any idea where she was heading?"

Tony shook his head. "Was going to check out the room to see if there was anything left behind and that's when this eastern European muscle head jumps me." He shook his head. "I don't care what she's up to, not if she's got people like that on her side."

"Thanks Tony, I owe you."

"Damn right you do." He pressed a hand to his ribs. "You're gonna get the bill for fixing these as well."

"Don't worry; I'll take care of it. I've got someone who'll pay handsomely for information about Sullivan. I think I've got a story I can sell him."

* * *

Bosley looked down at his grey overalls with more than a degree of distain. "If only my college professors could see me now!" he hissed sarcastically at Sabrina who was trying to usher him into Henry's apartment without arousing the attention of the neighbours.

"Bosley!" She attempted to get his attention, but experience had taught her that once Bos was on a soapbox, it was almost impossible to dislodge him.

"When I spent those long nights sweating over a pile of books this was exactly the sort of career that I had in mind!"

"Bos please." Sabrina's pleas fell on deaf ears, but she did manage to persuade her grumbling co-worker to make it over the threshold of the apartment.

She closed the door and leant back against it, letting out a heavy sigh and promising herself that she was going to count to ten at the very least before attempting to say anything further to him.

"So where is Mr Sullivan?" Bosley leant out into the corridor, his tone almost accusing.

"I sent him to go and play in the traffic," Sabrina replied shortly, immediately forgetting the promise that she'd made only moments earlier. She held up a hand as she saw the hurt expression on Bosley's face. "I'm sorry," she apologised, pushing a hand through her hair. "He's taken Missy out for a walk."

Bosley arched an eyebrow, a small smirk of conspiracy on his face. "Missy huh? ... What's she like?"

Sabrina bit back her initial response. "Missy is a dog Bosley. A black Labrador to be precise." She nodded in the direction of the kitchen. "In fact she's pretty much a ringer for the poor dog in there on the kitchen floor."

Bosley glanced at the floor of the kitchen and pulled a face. "Why is it that I always end up with this sort of duty?"

"You'd rather that I asked Kelly to do it?"

Bosley thought about it for a moment and wondered whether it was worth arguing the point. He took in the expression on Sabrina's face and knew that it was a battle that she was unlikely to allow him to win. He pulled a face.

"And after this little piece of show and tell you think it's safe for Henry Sullivan to be out there on his own? From what I know of Labradors, they're as likely to lick an attacker to death as protect their owner."

"Henry's not on his own," Sabrina told him through gritted teeth. "Kelly's tailing him... and before you ask, I asked her sit right back as he's likely to be upset if he realises that we're giving him the kid glove treatment." She tilted her head to one side as she tried to think of the best way of explaining things. "To say that he's not overly impressed with our presence in his life would be something of an understatement."

"You going to be ok?"

Sabrina heard the note of genuine concern in Bosley's voice and nodded with a small smile. "I'll be fine Bos. He's just not used to having a houseguest."

"That wasn't what I meant. I..."

"Bos, I'm fine," Sabrina cut across his concern, her tone sharp. "You've got Kelly in a new apartment, I'll be here. Everything is fine."

Bosley nodded; not really satisfied with the answer, but knowing that it was the only one he was going to get. He glanced again at the body of the dog. "You want me to get this dog autopsied?"

"Sure," Sabrina told him. "Can't wait to see what Charlie says when the bill comes in." She shook her head. "Before this I was almost ready to believe Henry that the crank calls were nothing more than kids messing around... but this..." She tailed off. "This is just sick."

Bosley glanced at his wristwatch. "The cleaning crew should be here in a few minutes. It'll look as though nothing happened." He glanced at Sabrina. "What! I may be a man of many disguises but there are places where even I draw the line!"

Sabrina shook her head, a wry smile forming on her face. She pushed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "Henry's adamant that he dropped the latch when we left. The door was swinging open on its hinges when we came back, no obvious signs of anyone forcing the lock." She shrugged her shoulders. "From where I'm standing we have two choices. We play along as though nothing has happened and hope to catch our man ... or woman ... in the act, or we ramp up security on this place so tight that we might just scare them off."

Bosley looked levelly at Sabrina. "You sure it's wise for you to stay here. As you yourself have just pointed out, they .. whoever they are... got in here without much difficulty."

"I'm not leaving him here on his own," Sabrina told him firmly. "And if we move him out then it's just letting this ...freak ... know that they're getting to us." She shook her head again. "I'm staying."

Bosley nodded. "Ok, I'll let Charlie know what's going on."

"Thanks." She paused. "Can you ask Kelly to talk to Carl Douglas again? The guy's usually sat in his car watching this building. Be good to know if he saw any comings or goings earlier on." She thought about adding her own personal suspicions regarding Douglas but she kept quiet. Kelly said that she trusted him, and her friend wasn't usually wrong. "With a neighbourhood like this someone must have seen something."

"I'll ask around."

"There's one more thing. Henry told me this morning that his car was in the shop. Can you check on that for me?"

"You have the registration?"

Bosley's expression slipped as Sabrina shook her head. "Sorry Bos. The army should have a record of it though; assuming that is he ever drove it to the base. I'm not sure there's anything wrong. I just want to make sure that he's not keeping something from us."

"That might take a little time," Bosley warned her. "In the meantime I have a little information about the reason for the pilot change on the night of the crash."

"What's the news?"

"The regular pilot showed up for duty under the influence of alcohol."

Sabrina's eyes widened. "He ever do anything like that before?"

Bosley indicated the brown tool bag that he was holding in his left hand. "I thought you might appreciate a little light reading. I sweet-talked the general's secretary this morning and managed to get hold of a few more personnel files, including that of the regular pilot Gasperino. Up until that flight his record was spotless; nothing in his file to indicate that he was anything other than dedicated to his job."

"You could get into trouble for your philandering ways," Sabrina gently ribbed her colleague. "I hope you offered to buy the lady a meal at the very least."

She noticed the way that he blushed and realised that her comment must have been pretty close to the truth. She grinned and accepted the small stack of files that Bosley offered to her. "Thanks Bos."

There was a sharp rap at the door and despite himself, Bosley jumped at the sudden loud noise. "I'll get that." He took a pace forward and then paused. "Promise me you'll be careful."

Sabrina looked at him levelly. "I promise."

He glanced down at the tight gauze bandages on her wrists. "And those need looking at," he reminded her before heading out to answer the door. Sabrina watched him go. She appreciated the fact that he wasn't one to make a fuss. He trusted all of them to be careful; to weigh up what was going on and make the decision that was right for them. She was relieved that he'd not noticed the way that she'd jumped at the sound, and couldn't see the way that her hands were trembling. She balled her hands into fists. The thug was not going to make her feel like a victim... she couldn't bring herself to finish the thought as a wave of anger washed over her. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her heartbeat. In that moment she remembered the pressure of his hand as he cut off her air supply, and the smell of his aftershave as he had pulled her close. She opened her eyes again and took a few steadying breaths. The memories would pass, she knew that, she just wished that they'd hurry.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Sorry to have made you worry about Bos; it was just the cleaning crew at the door. Kris hasn't been forgotten about...in fact she's back in this chapter. (She must have been on the slowest plane home.)**_

* * *

Kelly pulled a face as Bosley climbed into the car alongside her.

"Am I going to have to get this car valeted when we get back home?" she asked cautiously, looking at the overalls that her colleague was wearing.

"Have no fear," Bosley told her, showing her his perfectly manicured hands. "Rest assured that I have been nowhere near anything that might have ruined the good work that Kris put in."

Kelly pulled away from the kerb, smiling at the memory of the bet that Kris had lost. Bosley had so far only claimed the manicure... she wasn't so sure that Kris would follow up on her promise to give him a pedicure as well. She slowed the car as they neared an intersection.

"Well I watched a crotchety old man walk his dog for the best part of an hour," she told Bosley. "Did you get much out of the apartment?"

"Not a lot," Bosley confessed. "Sabrina wants to stay there with him; not show our hand at this stage." He saw the way that Kelly pressed her lips together. "Something bothering you?"

"I don't know. It's just Bri's reaction to what happened last night. She point blank refused to go to the hospital. There was no even discussing the matter with her." She glanced across at Bosley, trying to gauge his reaction. "Did you see the mess those ropes made of her wrists? If she doesn't get them looked at they're liable to get infected."

"She seemed..."

"You say alright and I stop the car and you walk from here," Kelly fumed.

"You're really worried, aren't you?"

"Uh huh," she confessed as she slowed to a halt as they neared the next intersection. "You didn't see what happened last night Bos. That guy was serious. He was going to kill her. All that stuff about the case was in the flat and it didn't look as though anything was touched. He was there for one purpose and one purpose only. He **knew** about the tape." She slapped a hand down on the steering wheel. "But that isn't it. That isn't the half of it. There's something Bri's not telling me. There's something else going on with her. I don't know. I'm just not sure that Mr Sullivan is the best company for her." She eased the car forward as the lights changed and made Bosley wait a few moments before she explained herself further. "I've just noticed that she's more withdrawn at the moment. Maybe something about being with him is getting to her." She shook the thought off. "It's probably nothing." She stopped short of telling him about the way that her friend hadn't slept, and spent the early hours of the morning reminiscing,

"Henry's certainly what you'd call taciturn," Bosley admitted. "Tried to make a little conversation with him while I was there, but he pretty much cut me dead at every turn. Not a man who's fond of people I'd say. He had more words to say to that dog of his than to me."

"Well Sabrina seems to think he's something special."

Kelly tailed off, keeping the rest of her thought to herself. She was going to do a little bit of digging into Henry's affairs herself. If Bosley noticed her sudden silence he didn't comment upon it.

"I finally got word from Kris."

A smile of relief lit up Kelly's face. "Thank heavens for that. I was beginning to get really worried about her. What did she say?"

"That she needed coffee and that we weren't to tell anyone about the package that she mailed to you."

The smile slipped into a frown. "Ahh. I take it you updated her?"

Bosley shook his head. "She had two dimes and was much more transmit than receive. She tried to tell me all about Menzies and the people she met there. I was lucky to be able to say hello before she launched into her monologue." He paused. "I did manage to tell her the address of the new apartment before she was cut off. I could hear her asking why you'd moved when the call was disconnected."

Kelly bit her lip; stopping herself from saying anything further. Maybe Kris would be able to shed light on what had been on the tape. She heard the blare of a car horn from behind and forced herself to concentrate on the road ahead.

* * *

Falcone watched Jarek as the man slowly opened and closed his right fist.

"I trust that you checked who he was looking for **before **you beat him to a pulp!" He tried to conceal a smile as Jarek shot him a look. "And I assume that there was no other alternative?"

"He was looking for the woman that has been visiting Sullivan," Jarek replied. "He took little persuading to tell me details."

"So who is she?"

"The man thought she was CIA."

Falcone narrowed his eyes. "Really? Did he tell you why he was looking for her?"

"No. Said that he'd been sent to keep an eye on her."

"Seems as though she's ruffling more than a few feathers. I want to know who she is Mr Lazic. If she is government then we need to make things clearer to Sullivan that he needs to remain silent."

Falcone watched Jarek; knowing there was something bothering the man. "What is it?"

"All this stuff with Sullivan..."

Falcone smiled. "I know you don't understand Mr Lazic. Trust me when I say that it's important. Sullivan will work out who it is eventually and he'll understand that he has to keep his mouth shut. If he does have government help on the premises then it's doubly important that nothing can be traced back to here."

"You want the problem removed?"

"I do Mr Lazic, but it has to be done carefully. I don't want anything leading back to me. There are altogether too many people getting involved in this case. It's more important than ever that we stay below the radar. In fact, I think it might be time to find out just how badly Mr Douglas wants that story of his."

* * *

Kris pushed open the apartment door and the welcoming smell of freshly brewed coffee assailed her nostrils. She called out and then breathed in the rich aroma and sighed. "I thought I was never going to find the building. How does Bosley unearth these places?" She narrowed her eyes as she caught sight of Kelly. "And why did you move? Bosley wouldn't tell me anything on the phone."

"You sound like you could do with an intravenous injection of caffeine," Kelly smiled as she greeted her friend.

"You have no idea," Kris told her wearily as she dropped her bags down onto the floor, her own question temporarily forgotten. "I feel as though I've been travelling for days. I missed the last flight out of town and had to spend the night sitting in the departure lounge." She pulled a face. "Between the Doug the homeless guy and his flea-ridden dog Hank, I didn't get much of a chance to sleep."

"Well, sit yourself down weary traveller."

Kris made her way across the apartment and collapsed onto the sofa.

"Successful trip?" Kelly called over her shoulder as she made her way towards the kitchen area.

"Well it was interesting," Kris admitted as she rubbed her tired eyes. "Lots of people, none of them real keen to talk about the crash."

"Maybe it brings back painful memories," Kelly suggested as she poured the rich dark coffee into a mug.

Kris stifled a yawn. "I think it's got more to do with the fact that a certain Carl Douglas has paid them money for exclusive rights to their stories."

"Ahh, he's not mentioned that." Kelly placed the mug down in front of Kris and took in her confused expression. "Things have moved on a little while you've been off gallivanting around the country."

Kris pulled a face. "I hardly call spending time in the back end of nowhere gallivanting." She reached forward for the coffee. "Do I take it that you've moved in on our Mr Douglas?"

"You could say that. I'm not sure that he entirely trusts me yet…but I'm working on that."

Kris took a mouthful off coffee and smiled contentedly. "You've no idea just how much I needed that." She looked around the apartment. "Where's Bri?"

"Moved into Sullivan's apartment to keep a closer eye on him."

Kris raised an eyebrow. "Is that wise?"

"You know Bri when she gets an idea in her head!"

Kris nodded; there were times when it was impossible to talk to Sabrina. Once she'd made her mind up about something, it was easier to go with it rather than try to talk her out of it.

"How's she finding him?"

Kelly settled herself down on the chair across from Kris and considered her reply.

"I think the man can do no wrong in her eyes."

"Ahh," Kris's frowned. "I think she's going to be less than happy with some of the things I've got to report back then. Those that would talk to me were not what you'd call fans of Henry Sullivan." She kicked off her shoes and let out a heavy sigh. "There's someone else who's going to be less than happy with the news I've brought back. I need to have one of 'those' conversations with Bosley."

Kelly winced. "What did you do?"

"It wasn't my fault…. At least not directly." She took another mouthful of coffee, making Kelly wait to hear the news. "Either I upset someone with questions I was asking, or someone just took a serious exception to my car."

Kelly immediately straightened up, her expression changing to one of concern. "What happened?"

Kris shrugged her shoulders and then settled back further into the soft material of the sofa. "Some crazy guy in a blue Pontiac tried to run me off the road."

Kelly glanced at her friend again, assuring herself that there was nothing physically wrong with her. "But you're ok … right?"

"Me? I'm indestructible. The car however… Bosley's gonna have to write one of those big cheques for the rental company."

Kelly smiled sympathetically. "You think the incident was connected with you asking questions about Henry?"

"I'd say it was directly connected to something else I found." She placed her coffee mug down on the table. "It's what I wanted to talk to you both about. You know that tape I sent you..." she tailed off when she saw the expression on Kelly's face. "What is it? What happened?"

"We don't have the tape." Kelly admitted. "Someone broke in here and took it."

Kris let out a low whistle. "And I thought the sheriff was over-reacting when he advised me to mail you a blank tape."

"It was blank!"

Kris picked up on the fear in her friend's voice. "Yeah. Sheriff Matthews thought it was a safer option to send a decoy and then have me carry out the original." She watched as Kelly turned away from her and let her head sink into her hands. "What's up?"

Kelly took a moment to compose herself. "Some things went on whilst you were away. The reason we're in this apartment and not the original one? Some guy broke into the place looking for the tape that you sent. Sabrina was here. I think he would have killed her if I hadn't handed over the tape. Whatever's on it is worth a lot to someone."

The colour drained from Kris' face. She reached for her bag and yanked impatiently at the zip. She reached in and searched for the envelope, letting out a sigh of relief as her hand closed around it. She ripped it open and slid the plain white box into her hand. It felt too light. The sense of relief vanished immediately and was replaced by one of dread. She pulled open the box and an empty spool slid out. She stared at it for a few moments before she swore loudly.

"Did you let it out of your sight?"

Kris shook her head at Kelly's question. "I had this bag with me the whole time. I don't understand."

"No-one else handled it?"

"No..." Kris broke off. "The only other person I can think of is the guy who rescued me from the car. He went back and grabbed it for me." She shook her head. "But there's no way he could have known that I had it."

"Are you sure? Isn't it possible someone knew about the tape and arranged the accident?"

Kris shrugged her shoulders. "I guess it's possible. Local grapevine was working nineteen to the dozen. Whole town knew I was there moments after I arrived. Doris on the exchange wasn't exactly what you'd call strict on privacy rules. Don't imagine that there's a single person in town who didn't know about me being there."

"Sounds like a friendly little place!"

Kris rolled her eyes. "You have no idea. It's the reason the sheriff suggested that I send the fake tape. The hope was that it would be intercepted, and I'd be left to bring the real one back here without interference." She shrugged. "So much for that plan!"

"And you didn't listen to it?"

Kris shook her head. "Not all of it. I didn't feel safe there. Thought it was best to get it back here without delay to people who'd be able to evaluate it properly."

She abruptly pushed herself to her feet, slapping a hand against the side of her leg with frustration.

"What's up?"

"I promised the local sheriff that I'd call him, and let him know that I got to the airport ok. With the crash and everything I completely forgot about it."

Kelly failed to suppress a smile. "You meet someone nice while you were out there?"

"Not like that." She paced across the apartment. "I get the feeling that there's more he could tell us about the crash."

Kris lifted the receiver and pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from her back pocket. She tapped the numbers into the phone and waited impatiently for the connection to be made.

"Come on, come on," she urged.

Frowning, she dropped the receiver back in place and hurried across the room, reaching for her handbag.

"What's up?"

Kris shook her head. "It's probably nothing but Doris falling asleep at the exchange," she admitted. "But I can't seem to get a connection to the sheriff's office." She dug through her bag until she came across the card from the flower shop. "I hope you've been listening out for gossip today Gladys," she muttered beneath her breath as she made her way back to the phone.

She stabbed at the keypad and waited impatiently for the call to be connected. After a minute she frowned and placed the receiver back in its cradle. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "That's odd. There should be someone there."

* * *

The stores in Menzies were all shut up; even Hogan's was closed; the bar stools standing empty and the balls on the pool table abandoned mid-game. The small town was in a state of flux. Nothing like it had been seen since the crash. It was a town that did nothing to invite trouble or recognition, but it was a town that felt as though it was being punished.

The sheriff's office was nothing but a blackened shell. The fire had been thorough in its work. A small group of townsfolk were gathered around the charred remains; looking on and wondering just what they should do next. The county coroner was on his way; until then they'd been told to leave everything as it was. It was a testament to their respect for their sheriff that no-one broke the self-imposed cordon. He'd been their lawman and the man who helped them circumvent the law when things got tough. Now he was gone and they had no idea how to go about finding out what had happened to him.


	20. Chapter 20

_**I hope no-one objects to my take on Sabrina's background...there really wasn't much to work on with the show. So a great many liberties taken**_

* * *

Sabrina let the curtain drop back into place. The only other cars visible were those that belonged to the building's residents. She'd made a mental note of the cars when she'd first arrived and nothing had changed. She stepped away from the window and headed to the small cabinet where the scotch was kept. She righted one of the glasses and splashed a measure into the bottom of it.

She noted the look of puzzlement on Henry's face. "With the day you've had, I think we can chalk this one up as medicinal."

"I had a bigger shock than that," he told her gruffly and watched with satisfaction as she topped the measure up. "You look as though you could do with a shot yourself." He raised his hands as he saw the expression on her face. "Just saying that's all."

Sabrina turned wordlessly back to the cabinet and replaced the bottle back on the shelf.

"I had a little chat with Mr Bosley," he told her as she handed him the glass. He watched the way that she tensed slightly. "Don't worry he didn't say anything he shouldn't." He paused. "Well, he said a lot of things that didn't need to be said. One thing that man can do is talk!" Henry shuddered at the memory before returning his attention to Sabrina. "Why didn't you tell me that you're Colonel Blaylock's daughter?"

Sabrina relaxed; thankful that the question wasn't about the events of the previous day. She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know; it didn't seem important. Wasn't sure if you'd remember your time on the base."

"I remember your father," Henry told her with a smile. "Did he tell you anything about me?"

"Only that I should watch my step. He said that there wasn't a trick that you didn't know."

Henry chuckled quietly to himself. "That was the old me I assure you. I've become quite the bore in my old age."

"I find that hard to believe."

Henry folded his arms as he tried to recall his time serving with the colonel. "I can't remember where I was stationed. Moved around a lot I guess."

"After awhile all the bases start to look the same," Sabrina told him glibly.

"I don't remember him having a family in tow."

"I was probably away at school at the time," she replied quietly as she returned to the cabinet and poured herself a smaller measure of scotch.

"They sent you away?"

Sabrina shrugged her shoulders. "He did...For a short time. I think it was just hard on him, he wasn't ready to cope with a teenager in the house by himself."

"By himself?" Henry's face turned ashen as the memory came back "...I'm so sorry, I'd forgotten that…"

Sabrina waved the apology away. "It doesn't matter."

"But I was carrying on and telling you that you didn't know what it was like to lose…." Henry let the sentence dropped away as he remembered the way that she'd clammed up and withdrawn into herself. He mentally berated himself for not even being able to remember which base he was serving on at the time.

She shrugged her shoulders. "There's no reason for you to remember that," she told him warmly. "Anyway, it was a long time ago."

"It's never easy to lose a member of your family." Henry seemed unwilling to let the conversation drop.

"You have to make peace with it though," Sabrina told him, well aware that he'd take her comment to refer to his own sense of loss.

He shook his head. "Sometimes it's hard. Sometimes it just won't leave you alone." He turned the glass of scotch around in his hands. "What happened?"

Sabrina shook her head. "It's doesn't matter."

"Well it obviously does to you. You know all about me... it's time for you to talk about something you need to let go of, and as you seem determined not to talk to me about whatever it was that happened last night..."

Sabrina shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She'd never been happy talking about her mother; it was to her mind a private matter. She was however asking Henry to be honest with her about his past. She couldn't very well sit there and refuse to talk to him.

She looked up and saw the concerned look on his face.

"If you don't want to say anything..."

Sabrina shook her head. "It's fine." She shifted again in her chair. "She was knocked down and killed by a drunk driver... I was with her at the time...Remember being in hospital and wondering why no-one came to see me. No-one said anything... but I guess I already knew. I started thinking that maybe in some way people blamed me." She took a mouthful of scotch. "No-one would look me in the eye and tell me the truth. Everyone; nursing staff and doctors walking around on eggshells trying to pretend that there was nothing wrong." She raised her eyes from her glass, checking Henry's reaction, and relieved to see that there wasn't an expression of pity on his face. "I was there for a few weeks... and I think that was the worst of it... being there and no-one saying a word. When my dad came to pick me up he'd already gotten himself stationed somewhere else; somewhere where there wouldn't be painful reminders."

"So you lost your stability as well as your mother," there was sadness in Henry's voice.

"It felt as though my entire life had been wiped out." She drained her glass. "I know he thought he was doing things for the best but..." she tailed off, not wanting to continue.

"You ever go back there?"

Sabrina shook her head. "Came close, but when it came to it I couldn't get to the front gate."

She forced a smile onto her face and raised her glass. "You want another?"

Henry knew that she was avoiding another question on the subject but decided to let her get away with it. He nodded his acknowledgement and waited as she refilled both the glasses. He noted that this time the measures were equal.

"So you were an army brat huh?" he asked her, trying to move the conversation on. "Just how many homes did you have as a child?"

Sabrina shrugged her shoulders and then retook her seat, wondering why he was so quick to turn the conversation back to her.

"I've lost track of the number of bases my dad was stationed at," she admitted. "After a while, one base looks very much like another."

"You ever want a permanent home?"

She smiled at the question. "I used to kick up such a fuss when I was a kid. I'd just get settled in a new place and then it was time to pick up everything and start again. I used to hate it and I used to make sure that my dad was well aware of it."

Henry's expression was sympathetic. "I always think army life is a little hard on the kids. Did you ever feel as though you were settled?"

"No," Sabrina admitted, surprising herself with her frankness. "I think it was one of the reasons I ended up rushing into a marriage. I so wanted to have the feeling of being settled somewhere and having a place in the world that was mine."

"I'm guessing the marriage didn't work out?"

"Too much change too fast I think…for both of us. I wasn't ready to suddenly put down roots I'd never really had before and I don't think Bill was ready for settling down with someone who didn't know what it was to settle down."

"You regret the marriage?"

"Oh no, I loved Bill, it was just all far too much too quickly. I thought security was what I wanted, the chance to have something I'd never really had before."

Henry smiled sadly at her. "And then you discovered that settling down isn't all that easy?"

"That's something of an understatement," she told him ruefully. "He wanted things done in a very specific way and I…"

"You still wanted the freedom that you had before?"

"Something like that. Let's just say that neither of us found it easy to compromise."

"Your father raised a very determined young lady."

Sabrina shrugged her shoulders. "He just taught me to stand on my own two feet."

Henry smiled. "I think he taught you a lot more than that."

Sabrina took a sip from her own glass. "I don't think he's crazy about my choice of career. It's not the sort of life I think he wanted for me. Used to come home for the holidays to find that a careers officer from the army had just stopped round." She smiled at the memory. "I used to have to pretend that I didn't realise what he was up to."

"You joined the police though?"

"Well I wasn't going to join the army. Told my father that I was done with all that."

"So you traded one institution for another?"

"And I was the only one that couldn't see it!" Sabrina said with a laugh. "I thought I was stepping out on my own and doing my own thing and there I was running to the same sort of organisation I thought I was running away from."

"I always liked the army," Henry mused as he swirled the scotch around in the bottom of his glass. "Always know where you stand; always know what's expected of you…."

"…Never have to think for yourself," Sabrina finished, shaking her head. "That's one thing I don't think I'd have been able to cope with. I need a job that challenges me, not one that tells me what I have to do."

"So you like your life now?"

Sabrina stared down at the glass in her hands but didn't reply, her mood changing in an instant. "I don't know."

"What happened?"

Sabrina shook her head. "It's nothing... It'll pass."

Henry noticed the way that Sabrina's fingers tightened around her glass and decided that it was best to drop the subject.

* * *

Falcone spun the tape back until it travelled through the machine's heads and spun lazily round; the leader of the tape slapping against the side of the machine. He stopped the mechanism and lifted the tape from the spindle turning it over in his hand. It was such a small thing, but it had already caused at least one death; perhaps more. He wasn't sure exactly who had been keeping it safe all these years, but he doubted that they had ever appreciated its real worth.

It was time to force the issue. Sullivan hadn't taken the hint and so it was time to play a little hardball. The tape could turn out to be the most perfect piece of leverage. He'd had to play things safe, maintain a distance that no legal team could claim that he'd breeched, play out a game that could be put down to nothing more than kids. The tape; the tape finally gave him the leverage he needed. There was someone who would sell his own grandmother to get his hands on the tape...Falcone thought that it was about time to put that idea to the test. If Douglas wanted the tape so badly then he'd have to pay a price for getting hold of it. That price would be something that would in effect kill two birds with one stone. Falcone allowed himself a small smile; strictly speaking there was only one death on the cards, but it was a death that would let Sullivan know that he wasn't playing around.

* * *

Bosley glanced at his watch. It had taken him the best part of the day to track down the garage where Sullivan's car was being repaired. He'd been in an out of more grease shops then he cared to recall and wished that just once the guys working there would show him a little courtesy. He adjusted the knot on his tie and prepared for another round of sarcasm.

"Hello," he called out into the abandoned looking workshop, worrying that the late hour might mean that he'd missed his chance. His fears were quickly quelled as a young man in oil-stained overalls appeared from a side office.

"Got something I can do for you?" the man called.

"Looking for some information on a car that you've got in for repair," Bosley began, reeling off the story that he'd repeated so many times already that day. He told the young man that he thought the car had been in a collision with his own and was looking to see if there was any proof.

The man sucked the air in over his teeth and then headed for the customer work forms that were attached to a clipboard.

"Got your car here," he confirmed. "But there's no mention of any paintwork needing attention."

"Are you sure?" Bosley pushed the issue. "My neighbour made a note of the licence and the description of the car fits as well."

"Car's here due to faulty brakes. A little fender damage from it coming into contact with a wall but no paint residue noted by the guy who straightened out the fender."

"Brake trouble?" Bosley queried.

"Yep. Probably nothing more than a poor bit of home maintenance. Brake cable wasn't attached properly. Guy was lucky that the crash wasn't more serious." He returned the clipboard to its peg on the wall. "Sorry that I can't help you more."

"You've been more helpful than you know," Bosley told him honestly.

* * *

The car was parked in the shadow of an overhanging tree. With the number of streetlights out in the neighbourhood it was a precaution that was hardly necessary, but Jarek was following Falcone's orders that his presence shouldn't be noticed by the occupants of the building opposite. He'd sat low down in his seat and watched intently as the cleaning crew had arrived on the scene and gone about their work with military precision.

The message had been plain to the old man, but it looked as though he wasn't taking the warnings seriously enough. He lent forward in his seat and popped open the glove compartment. Within it there was a pair of gloves and a carefully sealed envelope. His instructions had been clear. If there was no change at the apartment, then the message was to be delivered and Falcone would see to it that it was acted upon at the first available opportunity. Jarek would rather have dealt with the problem head on, but he had his orders.

* * *

Henry climbed slowly from his chair and made his way over towards the drinks cabinet. "You want another?"

Sabrina shook her head and indicated the half-full tumbler on the table. "I'm good."

Henry unscrewed the lid of the bottle and stopped. "Why do I get the feeling that you're about to tell me that I've had enough?"

"Maybe you don't need me to tell you that."

Henry grunted and poured another generous measure of scotch into the bottom of the glass. "Sometimes you sound just like my ex-wife."

"Maybe sometimes I know how she felt."

"Cute!" Henry screwed the lid back on the bottle and moved to stare out of the window at the city below.

"You like the view?" Sabrina questioned, reaching for her own glass.

"Sorry?"

"The view." She nodded in the direction of the window. "I noticed that you seem to spend a long time at that window, looking out at the folks below."

Henry shrugged his shoulders. "Just watching the world go by."

"Really?"

Henry took a mouthful of scotch. "Don't be so busy living your life that you let the important things get away from you Sabrina."

"Now where did that come from?"

She saw Henry's shoulders shrug. "Things flash by you so fast in life that you've barely chance to realise they're there before they go." He gestured down at the people in the street far below. "Look at them all running around down there, all thinking that their journey is the most important, all thinking that they have all the time in the world to do things. It's not true, sometimes the most important things are gone before you've ever really had a chance to appreciate that they're there."

Sabrina waited for Henry to continue, she was certain that there was more to come.

After a minute of standing there in silence he spoke again, only this time his words were so quiet that Sabrina had to strain to hear them.

"Make sure you see your dad on a regular basis," he advised her. "People can get themselves so busy with their lives that they forget about the people that have always been there until it's too late. Don't let it become too late for you Sabrina."

"I won't," she told him softly. "What's brought all this on?"

Henry shrugged his shoulders. "I guess when you're young you never think about the fact that someday it'll all come to an end. You think you're indestructible when you're young. It's only when you get older that you start to realise that you're not."

He turned, a little unsteadily on his feet and faced her. He saw the expression on her face. "I know what you're thinking." He told her. "And maybe I have drunk too much, but that doesn't change the validity of what I'm saying."

Sabrina held up her hands. "I wasn't going to say a thing."

"Maybe not, but you were thinking it," he told her. "Make the most of the time that you have. That's all I really want to tell you."

Sabrina shook her head. "There's more to this. What's brought this mood of melancholy on? It's not just the scotch talking, even I can tell that."

Henry sighed heavily. "You ever get bored of playing detective?"

"No."

He looked down at the amber liquid as it swirled gently around with the slowly melting ice. "You wanted to know why I'm prepared to finally talk about what happened that night on the runway? You really want to know?"

A shiver ran down Sabrina's spine and she willed him to not say what she feared he was going to.

"I've only got a couple of months left," he told her quietly.

Sabrina's eyes widened. He'd said the words as though they meant nothing, and for a moment, she wondered if he was referring to his time left in the army.

"You hear what I just said?"

"Uh huh," she told him quietly, desperately trying to think of what to say. "When did you find out?"

"Does it matter?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I guess not."

"It's a tumour… and before you ask, it's inoperable."

"I'd say sorry but…it seems such an empty word at times."

"Hmmph. At least you're honest."

"Talking about being honest; does the general know?"

"He knows that I've seen a doctor. I don't want you to tell anyone the details though; I don't want to spend the next few months with people walking on eggshells around me. I couldn't stand that."

Sabrina took a breath. "I'll have to tell Charlie and the others."

"No."

"What do you mean no?" Sabrina questioned. "They have to know, it could have a bearing on what's happening."

"Promise me that you won't tell anyone."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"If you can't do that then you can't stay here." He told her flatly.

Sabrina looked at the man standing in front of her; his jaw stuck out proudly as he gave her his ultimatum. She knew that she'd never be able to betray his confidence. She let out a long breath. "Ok," she told him gently. "I won't tell the others ... not yet." She held up a hand as she saw that he was about to argue with her. "I'll have to tell them eventually..." she tailed off; relieved when she saw him nod his head slowly in agreement.

"Ok," he agreed gruffly. "But I don't want any special treatment. I'm still the same man you thought I was five minutes ago." He fixed her with a stern glare. "I hear one pitying word out of your mouth and you are out of here," he warned her.

Sabrina held up her hands, "I won't make a big deal out of it... I promise."

Henry nodded, accepting her word and settled back into his chair, his attention once again returning to the glass that he held in his hands.

Sabrina watched him out of the corner of her eye; her mind struggling to come to terms with what he'd just told her. Tears pricked at her eyes and she wasn't sure that she'd be able to keep them back for long.


	21. Chapter 21

_**Thanks for the kind words on the previous chapter ...it was another one that I enjoyed writing, but wasn't sure how it would be received.**_

* * *

Sabrina moved as quietly as she could across the room, trying her best not to make a sound and disturb Henry. She'd tried to get some sleep, but there were too many thoughts running round in her mind.

The half-empty bottle of scotch was still on the small table next to Henry's chair. She unscrewed the lid and poured herself a generous measure. If she was going to be awake all night, then she figured that she may as well have a drink.

She made her way over to the window and perched on the arm of the sofa; cradling the whisky tumbler in her hand, and looking out over the lights of the city. She heard the sound of movement from the next room, and moments later heard the sound of snuffling as Missy pushed open the swing door from the kitchen and made her way into the room.

The black Labrador pushed her nose under Sabrina's free hand and wagged her tail hopefully. Sabrina couldn't help but smile softly, and she duly stroked the dog's silky ears.

"Wondering what I'm doing up at this hour huh?" she asked the dog, keeping her voice to a whisper.

Her response was another nudge to her hand, and the sound of the dog's tail batting gently against the furniture.

"So you couldn't sleep either?"

She took a sip of whisky and then lowered herself down onto the floor, leaning up against the sofa. Missy soon settled down next to her, resting her head on Sabrina's legs.

Memories of childhood flashed through her mind. When she'd been small there had always been a dog in the house, and when she'd found herself moved to another new base; uprooted and taken away from everything that had been familiar, there would be usually be at least one night in the new home where she couldn't sleep, and so she'd sit up and the dog would keep her company.

Such concerns seemed trivial now. Henry was asking her to keep a secret for him. She knew that it was something that she should talk to the others about; they had a right to know, but the look on Henry's face when he'd asked her to keep the information quiet had been enough to make her stop. She didn't want to think about the fact that within months Henry would be gone. He was so fiercely alive that the whole situation seemed unreal. But she knew all too well the way that things could change; things that you thought would always be there could be snatched away in a heartbeat.

Henry's sudden change of heart regarding the crash now made sense. He'd be gone before the anniversary ever came around. He'd never had any intention of talking to anyone about what happened that night. It was just his way of getting the last laugh on the journalists who hounded him.

She sighed heavily and scratched Missy behind the ears; the dog's tail thumping against the floor in response. She knew that she wouldn't be able to get any sleep until she'd worked things through in her mind. Henry's confession providing her with a reason to ignore the other issue that was nagging away in her brain and keeping her from restful sleep.

She turned her head and glanced at the scotch bottle. It was probably just as well that it was now out of reach. The mood she was in she was certain that she could easily make a sizable dent in the contents.

* * *

Carl opened one tired eye and tried to focus on the face of his alarm clock. It was a little before 3am. He pulled his pillow over his head in a vain effort to drown out the sound of the ringing phone. It had started up over a minute ago and was showing no signs of letting up.

There was a heavy thud from the next apartment as his neighbour let him know exactly what he thought of the disturbance.

Realising that the only way to stop the night time intrusion into his sleep was to answer the phone, Carl reluctantly dragged himself to his feet and padded across his apartment.

"Hello?" he croaked into the receiver.

"I have a little something that may interest you Mr Douglas," the male voice on the other end of the phone told him.

"Who is this?" he growled. "If it's some kind of a joke..."

"The final recording of K47 is up for grabs," the voice continued on, betraying no emotion. "There is a price for the recording Mr Douglas. The question is ... do you have anything that meets the seller's valuation?"

"What!" Carl was suddenly all ears.

"There is a price to be paid Mr Douglas. We need a show of good faith before any transaction can take place. A life for a life Mr Douglas. Whose will you offer?"

"What?" Carl wiped the sleep from his eyes. "What are you talking about?" he yelled into the phone, but all that he heard was the burring of the dial tone. Numbly he replaced the receiver and tried to process what he'd just been told.

* * *

Henry pulled back the curtains and winced as bright sunlight flooded the room. The sky was cloudless and it looked as though it was shaping up to be another warm day.

"Alright, alright," he muttered as Missy danced around at his feet. "Not all of us are morning people. I thought we'd established that."

Missy briefly left his side and headed for the door, one thing only on her mind. Henry grumbled and followed her, slipping his bare feet into the shoes that he always kept by the phone. They were long past being what he thought of as serviceable footwear, but they were good enough for putting on to let Missy out for her morning constitutional. He scooped the keys up out of the old shell he kept them in and made his way towards the front door.

He'd had only opened the door an inch when a sudden movement caught his eye. A buff coloured envelope fluttered towards the floor. It had obviously been stuck into the jamb of the door. Henry frowned and bent down to pick it up, doing his best to ignore Missy who was keen to get past him and closer to the outside world.

Sliding one finger under the edge of one corner, he ripped open the top of the envelope and removed the letter. Like the envelope, it had been typed. There were only a few scant words on the sheet, but they made his blood run cold.

SHE'LL BE NEXT.

Missy's impatient bark pulled him back to his senses, and he pushed the letter into the pocket of his trousers as Sabrina appeared behind him in the hallway.

"Is everything all right?" she asked sleepily.

"It's fine," Henry snapped back at her. "You never see a man letting his dog out in the morning?"

Sabrina took a pace back and rubbed at her tired eyes. "I'll put the coffee on then, shall I?"

* * *

Falcone waited impatiently for Jarek to finish his report. "So she's still there?"

Jarek nodded. "Looks as though she's moved in."

"If she is government that you can't be seen hanging around there. She's bound to have others staking out the building by now. No-one was supposed to see you; that was part of the deal. Did you leave the note as we agreed?"

Jarek nodded. "It would have been as easy just to do the job then."

"We need to maintain a certain distance." Falcone glanced towards the phone. "Get yourself some rest. I have a call to make and a deal to strike. One that will put everything we need into our hands."

Jarek thought about asking Falcone to explain, but then realised that he truly didn't care. He pushed himself to his feet, pausing as he reached the door.

"When you deal with her..."

Falcone smiled. "Yes Mr Lazic, I will make sure you are included. It's good to see you getting so...involved with your work."

Falcone waited for the door to close behind Jarek before reaching for the receiver.

* * *

Carl reached out and brought his hand down firmly on top of his alarm clock, wondering why the ringing sound continued unabated. His head felt as though it was full of cotton wool. Sleep had taken a long time to reach him following the early morning call. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stared blearily across the room as he realised that it was the phone that was ringing. The man on the end of the call last time had indicated that a price had to be paid for the tape –he wasn't certain that he understood exactly what the man had been getting at. The mere thought of the tape brought a smile to his face. If it were truly out there, then it would give him the edge. He pushed himself to his feet, heading for the receiver. He would pay whatever the caller wanted if he could satisfy himself that the tape was genuine. He flexed his fingers as he reached for the phone. If this was the same caller, then he was certainly in the mood for discussion.

* * *

"There's coffee in the pot and toast on the go," Sabrina called out as she heard the front door open.

Moments later there was the now familiar sound of paws skittering on the wooden floor of the hallway, before Missy bounded into the kitchen, tail wagging furiously.

"So you're the one in this place who's a morning person," she told the dog as she knelt down to make a fuss of her.

"You didn't have to make coffee."

Sabrina lifted her head as she heard Henry's voice from the doorway. "It's no bother. If I'm honest I don't think I can function without at least one cup of coffee first thing."

He smiled at her words but said nothing further; an awkward silence falling between the two of them. When Sabrina realised that Henry wasn't going to say anything further, she turned her attention back to the toast that was starting to brown under the grill.

"I'm sorry... about earlier..." Henry's words were hesitant.

Sabrina kept her attention focused on the grill, switching off the power and pulling the light brown toast out from under the heat. She placed the new slices into the remaining slots in the rack and then loaded them onto the tray that she'd already prepared with the rest of the breakfast things.

"Food first," she told him. "And then we can work out where we go next."

"Didn't you hear what I said?" Henry grumbled, making no effort to move from where he stood.

"I heard you. You've nothing to apologise for."

An impatient whine from Missy broke the tension that was still in the air.

"You're outvoted," Sabrina told him as she carried the tray over to the table. "Looks as though there are two of us here who are eager for breakfast."

Henry looked as though he was going to say something more but then gruffly nodded his head and followed her to the table.

* * *

Kris glanced across at the clock. There was still another hour until the meeting that Bosley had called, but she found that she couldn't leave the subject of Menzies alone.

Kelly had tried to get her to talk about her visit the previous night, but guilt had played too heavily on her mind. She'd had the tape in her hands and she'd lost it. She'd managed to put one of her friends in danger in the process. Kelly had done her best to pull her out of her reverie, but the situation had played too heavily on her mind and she'd retired to bed early.

Now in the warmth of a new day she knew that she had to face things head on. She sat across the table from Kelly and tried to fill her friend in on a few of the details about her trip.

"I wasn't able to find out who it was who buys them, but there's always a fresh bouquet of flowers at the memorial stone. After talking to the rather hostile group by the base I don't imagine that it's one of them."

"Could be one of the relatives of the crash victims," Kelly pointed out, relieved that her friend was finally starting to open up.

"The flowers come from the local florist, but she wasn't giving away any information about the customer. No amount of persuading would get her to tell me anything."

"You think she was being paid to be quiet?"

Kris shook her head. "Not about this. I think it was just good old-fashioned customer loyalty. Although loyalty seemed to be a rare commodity in that part of the world."

"What do you mean?"

"Well if folks hadn't sold their stories to Carl Douglas they were on the look out for money. Sullivan's ex-wife certainly wouldn't win any prises for charm."

"What was she like?"

"Bitter. Got the impression that she wouldn't care if she never saw Henry again." She paused and ordered her thoughts. "From talking to folks there, the one picture I didn't get of Henry Sullivan was that of hero." She reached across and picked up a copy of the photo that had made his name. "That photo doesn't scream gambler and troublemaker does it? But from what the good people of Menzies have told me, he wasn't exactly the model soldier."

She placed the picture back down on the table and met Kelly's troubled expression. "What's up?"

"You're not the only one to question Sullivan," she admitted. "Carl Douglas is adamant that he's a fraud." She shrugged her shoulders. "He won't actually tell me what he's basing his opinions on, but he seems pretty damned certain." She broke off before glancing again at Kris. "Promise me you won't tell Bri what I'm about to tell you?"

"What is it?"

"You've got to promise me. I really don't think that Bri would be happy with the questions I've asked."

Kris held up her hands, concerned by her friend's demeanour. "I promise."

"General Warner seemed so determined that Sullivan should be protected that it got me to wondering if there was anything that he wasn't telling us." She paused and then looked down at her hands. "I've requested Sullivan's army records... all of them. Everything from the day he signed up until now. Maybe they'll show nothing, but I just can't get past the fact that Carl is so suspicious of him..." she tailed off unsure of how to continue.

"You like this guy, don't you?"

There was a pause. "I like the Carl Douglas that I've seen."

"Meaning?"

"You get Bri to talk about him and you'll hear about a completely different person. It's safe to say that she won't be standing for president of his fan club any time soon!"

"You really think that Bri would be angry with you calling up Sullivan's records?"

"Without mentioning it to her first...yes. She thinks he's something special. With the events of the past couple of days I don't want to upset her unnecessarily. If there's nothing in them then I won't have to mention it."

"And if there is something there?"

Kelly raised her eyes and met Kris' searching gaze. "We'll cross that bridge when and if we come to it."


	22. Chapter 22

Kelly watched Bosley as he fussed around Kris. She watched the way that her friend tried to deflect attention away from herself. She was still blaming herself for the loss of the tape, despite her earlier assurances that she was over her feelings of guilt. She hurriedly stirred milk into the coffee she'd just poured and made her way back across the apartment to rescue her friend.

"So Bos, what news from Charlie?"

She saw the smile of thanks on Kris' face as Bosley took up his favourite role of orator.

"He's worried by the number of things that have happened." He glanced in Kris' direction. "Particularly by the incidents in Menzies."

"Does he want us to pull out?" Kris' voice was challenging.

"He wants you to be careful," Bosley told her gently. "Cars he can replace. You on the other hand…"

Kris nodded her understanding. "We'll be careful."

Bosley glanced at his watch and then sighed. "I thought we'd agreed to be here for nine?"

"We did," Kelly replied. "Sabrina must be caught in traffic. You know how she hates to be late."

As if on cue there was a knock on the door. Kelly pushed herself to her feet and crossed the apartment. Sabrina stood on the threshold.

"Sorry," she apologised. "Hope I haven't kept everyone waiting."

Despite the professional exterior; Kelly could see that her friend was tired. Dark circles ringed her eyes and she was lacking that usual spark of energy.

"Are you ok?" she asked as gently as she could.

Sabrina shook off the concern with a wave of her hand. "Fine," she replied shortly. "Just burning the midnight oil again."

Kelly looked at her steadily as she moved on to greet Kris; watching as she tried to dodge the concern regarding the slowly developing bruises. She knew that something was up, but until Sabrina was ready to share the information, she knew that it was useless pushing for answers.

She patted her friend on the arm and made her way over to the coffee pot. "You look as though you could do with a cup."

Sabrina stifled a yawn and then rubbed at her tired eyes. She accepted the drink from her friend without a word and then sank into the comfort of one of the chairs and wrapped her hands around the coffee cup. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing. We were waiting for you."

Sabrina yawned again. "Any word from Menzies?"

Bosley frowned. "I'm afraid that there is."

Kris straightened up. "What's up Bos?"

"I'm afraid I've got some bad news. My rather delicate phone call to the rental agent last night revealed some news that it's my sad duty to pass on."

Kris paled at the words. "What's happened?"

"I'm sorry Kris. There was nothing that anyone could do."

Kris wrapped her arms around herself. "What happened?"

"Information is pretty sketchy at the moment, but it looks as though there was a fire in the outbuilding that the sheriff used as a storeroom..." he tailed off not wanting to complete the story.

Kris shook her head. "No...Please no."

"Early indications are that he was the only person on the premises at the time. There will be an investigation into the cause of the fire, but the local community are understandably shocked at the loss of their sheriff."

Kris took a steadying breath. "I was only with him the other day," she muttered as she struggled to come to terms with what she was hearing. "He was a lovely man."

Kelly looked to Sabrina to see if her friend had anything to add, but her attention seemed to be focused entirely on her coffee cup. "Any suggestion of foul play?" she finally asked. She saw the way that Kris tensed at the question and wished that she didn't have to ask it.

"The recent dry spell meant that the building was tinder dry, but arson hasn't been ruled out."

"That explains why no-one answered my call last night," Kris struggled to keep her voice even. "Did you get anywhere looking into the name I gave you?"

Bosley shook his head. "Preliminary search hasn't brought up anything on Jack Falcone. No police record in Menzies, and no report of him anywhere else that Charlie can find at this time. He's going to call in a few favours and see if that can unearth anything. What made you ask about him?"

"Henry's ex talked him up as some money lender with aggressive payback tendencies, and the guy who broke into my hotel room asked if I was working for him."

Kelly held up a hand. "Back up. The guy who broke into your hotel room?"

"Like I told you yesterday it's a friendly little town!" Kris tried to ease Kelly's concern. "I think he's the man who passed me the tape. I can't be sure though."

"You think that Falcone is still in the Menzies area?"

Kris shook her head. "Marian Sullivan indicated that he'd moved on to bigger and more lucrative things. Sounded as though he had enough clout to keep himself out jail, but he may have over-reached himself in a new town."

"Sounds as though your time in Menzies was eventful," Bosley remarked, his tone one of concern. "Did your mysterious visitor give you any hint about what might have been on the tape?"

Kris shook her head. "I'm only guessing that he was the one who placed it in my car." She shivered at the memory of the voices on the tape. "I'm sure that the recording was from K47. That's the only reason I can think of for someone passing it to me." She shrugged her shoulders. "Is that even possible? Did they have flight recorders back then?"

"According to the reports I read there was a CVR fitted in the plane," Sabrina spoke up, her tone flat.

Kris frowned. "CVR?"

"Cockpit Voice Recorder," Sabrina told her smoothly. "It's essentially a more basic version of a black box system. It records all the conversation that takes place in the cockpit. There's a partial transcript of it in existence in the files but as far as I'm aware that's all there is."

"Why wasn't the whole recording transcribed?" Kelly wanted to know.

Sabrina shrugged. "A transcript would have been used in the crash investigation. It's standard practice. They probably left out anything that they thought was private or not important to the investigation."

Kelly looked at the others before asking the question she knew they were all thinking. "So what happened to it?"

"Once the transcript was made, it was most probably wiped and returned to service on another aircraft."

"Only in this instance a copy of the tape was made and kept until someone decided to drop it into my lap in Menzies." Kris stared down at her hands. "I heard the voices of the men on that tape. Bob Matthews saw how spooked I was and persuaded me that the best thing was to get the tape back here as quickly as possible." She let out a long breath. "If only I'd listened to the whole thing..."

"Don't beat yourself up about it," Kelly tried to reassure her. "I'm more interested in who found out you had it and how they traced it back here so quickly."

"Kelly, I had a team go over your old apartment but they came up with nothing," Bosley admitted. He spotted the frown on Sabrina's face. "Charlie's orders. Believe me when I tell you that he was less than happy about being kept out of the loop on this one."

Sabrina shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "The guy was a pro. I told you that. There wasn't much chance that he was going to leave anything behind for us to identify."

"I know," Bosley replied keeping his tone even. "But Charlie was insistent that we try and find out who he was. He doesn't like it when someone threatens one of his employees. You might not believe it, but I don't like it much either."

Sabrina pursed her lips. "He got what he wanted and left. There's not much else to know."

Kris' eyes widened. "He knew about the tape. I'd say that was something that needed investigating." She finally noticed the looks that Kelly was giving her and lapsed into silence.

"Charlie wants you to take a look through some mug shots," Bosley announced. "I explained to him that you were busy with Henry, but he's sending some over later on."

Sabrina chewed her lip and said nothing.

"Sabrina?"

"Alright," she snapped and immediately raised her hand. "I'm sorry Bos..." She forced a smile onto her face. "I'll take a look through the books if it'll keep the peace."

"Anyone have anything else to add?" Bosley looked in Sabrina's direction, waiting for her to say something. When she remained silent, he pushed a little harder. "Mr Sullivan alright?"

Sabrina yawned. "I think he received another of those nuisance calls last night." She glanced at Bosley. "I really need to pick up a recorder for the phone. You had any luck in getting hold of one?"

"I'm on it and it should be with you by the end of the day."

Kelly frowned. "I thought all the calls were short ... and silent. To keep a caller on the line you really need someone who's willing to engage in conversation."

"Henry denied it, but I think that the caller changed their established pattern last night. I'm sure I heard Henry replying to someone." Sabrina rubbed at her eyes. "I just want to be able to record one of these calls. See what's said."

"But they've not tried anything else?" Bosley persisted.

"No Bos. Nothing."

He paused for a moment. "Are you ok?"

The look she shot him was cold. "I'm fine Bosley." She gestured in Kris' direction. "I wasn't the one who was run off the road by a maniac."

"No but..."

"And Carl Douglas is worth worrying about if his tales of an intruder are true."

After exchanging a glance with the others, Bosley gave up on his pursuit of an answer. He realised that every question would be met with a defensive answer, or an attempt to change the subject. It was a matter that he'd come back to when Sabrina was feeling a little more like herself. He turned his attentions instead to Kris, who was still looking a little shell-shocked from the news he'd broken earlier. "You want to talk to me about Bob Matthews?"

Kris shook her head. "Not just now Bos… if you don't mind."

"No problem. Just take your time."

Sabrina pushed herself to her feet. "I'll put a call into the general; see if there's any word about what happened to the CVR from flight K47. If there's a serious chance that the recording is out there, then there can only be a limited number of people who could have gained access to it."

"You'll take time to look at the mug shots?"

Sabrina frowned before answering Bosley. "I think it's a waste of time. The guy was a pro. Didn't strike me as the sort who'd ever seen the inside of a police station."

"Humour me," Bosley pleaded with her and was rewarded with a half-hearted nod of agreement. "Thank you."

Kris placed a hand on Kelly's arm as Sabrina left the room. "What's been going on? I know you said she was out of sorts but..."

Kelly frowned. "So it's not just my imagination then?"

Kris shook her head. "Definitely not. She seemed really jumpy when Bos mentioned looking at mug shots. What happened?" Kris watched the expression that passed across her friend's face. "What?"

"I blame myself," Kelly admitted finally. "I was there having a meal with Carl... and Bri was...Bri was..." she faltered.

"You can't blame yourself," Kris told her firmly placing a hand on her arm. "There's no way that you could have known that anyone was after the tape."

"He was going to kill her," Kelly muttered quietly. "He stood there and he was going to kill her." She let out a strained laugh and tried to shrug her fear off. "I know it's not the first time that someone's threatened one of us, but this ..." She sought to put her thoughts into order. "There was nothing but a sort of ruthless efficiency about it. Sabrina's right when she says that she was expendable. As far as this guy was concerned her life didn't matter at all."

Kris shuddered at the cold words of her friend and tried to push down her own feelings of guilt. "And you think it's shaken her up?"

"She won't talk about it; snaps when anyone mentions it and won't go and get the damage to her wrists looked at." She glanced at her friend. "Trust me; they need looking at. Rope was so tied so tight..."

Kris placed a hand over her friend's as she saw the way that she was struggling. She was reassured when Kelly's hand tightened around her own.

"I'm sorry," she finally apologised. "I just can't stop thinking about the fact that I was out having a good time when ..."

"There's no way that you could have known anything about it. I'm guessing that our tape hunting friend is also responsible for the bruises that Bri was trying to deny?"

Kelly nodded. "That's another thing she's not talking about. He spooked her Kris; really got under her skin. I get the feeling that until he's safely in custody we've got to keep looking over our shoulders."

"You think he'll come back?"

"I don't know. I just know that I won't be happy until this case is over."

* * *

Sabrina sat in silence and watched the delicate flame of the candle she'd just lit as it danced and weaved in the draughts that swept through the old church. She'd never been one for churches and organised religion in general, but she could clearly remember the smell of incense and the atmosphere that used to be present in the churches that she had been taken to as a child. Back at a time when everything had seemed so much simpler. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath. The still atmosphere of the church had helped her to shrug off the tension that had been mounting. She'd been sat at an interchange waiting for the lights to change and the place had caught her eye. The blare of car horns told her that she wasn't paying attention to the world around her and so she'd pulled the car to the side of the road, letting the stifling heat of the day wash over her. The noise around her was intrusive and so she'd locked the car and made her way to the cool inviting silence of the church. Now she sat on one of the narrow pews and let the events of the past week fill her mind.

She was letting the case get to her; getting involved and not remaining objective. She'd been able to talk to Henry in a way that she'd been unable to talk to her own father. She knew that he was disappointed that she'd not stayed and worked at her marriage, even though her relationship with Bill had continued to be strong after they'd split. He'd never say anything to her directly, but she knew it was just another of those subjects that they'd never be able to discuss. The biggest subject and the one that they both trod on tip toes around concerned her mother. Her father never wanted to discuss things with her. He wanted to put the past to one side and move forward, but there were so many questions that she'd wanted answered, so many little details that she wanted to be filled in. It had been cathartic to finally meet someone she could talk to about the sense of loss. She'd then been floored by Henry's admission about his illness.

She stared up at the ceiling. She'd have to have to talk to her father soon... explain things a little better.

The delicate flame of the candle bent again as the air around it was disturbed. Sabrina heard the sound of footsteps on the stone flooring, and closed her eyes; hoping that whoever it was would just respect her privacy and leave her alone.

"I've not seen you in here before." A woman's voice broke the silence; her tone carrying a slight southern twang.

Sabrina ignored the voice, and hoped that the woman would take the hint and move away.

"I don't mean to pry," the voice continued. "It's just that I'm here regularly, and I'm certain that I've not seen you before."

Sabrina slowly opened her eyes; recognising the sound of a woman who was unlikely to give up on her pursuit of information.

"It's my first visit in a long time," she told the woman quietly, not turning to face her. "I just wanted some quiet time alone."

"Oh honey, I'm not going to bother you."

Sabrina thought about telling the woman that she was already bothering her, but the chances were that that would lead to an argument, and the reason for coming to the church in the first place would be lost. She closed her eyes again and hoped that the woman would take the hint.

The hope was in vain.

"You here to light a candle for someone?"

Sabrina pressed her eyes tighter together; hoping that her silence would drive the other woman away.

"C'mon honey; it's always better if you talk to someone about these things."

Sabrina opened her eyes, and turned to regard the woman for the first time. She was more than a little surprised by the sight that met her eyes. The woman standing in front of her looked as though she'd be more at home in a commune somewhere. She certainly wasn't the nosy interfering type that Sabrina had been expecting. Her long light brown hair was braided and tied with coloured beads, and her clothes contained more colours than the entire contents of Sabrina's own wardrobe.

Sabrina let out a long breath; worse than a do-gooder; she'd been confronted by an out and out nut.

"I'm sorry," she tried to explain as patiently as she could, already feeling the tension begin to rise in her voice. "I don't mean to be rude, but I didn't come here looking for a conversation." She held up her hands as she noticed that the woman was about to interrupt her. "...And I really would appreciate it if you just left me alone."

"Hey," the woman told her softly, "You know what they say, a trouble shared is…" She tailed off as Sabrina rose silently to her feet and made her way along the narrow gap between the pews.

Sabrina took in slow even breaths as she moved her way towards the main doors. All she had wanted was a few minutes of peace and quiet; a few moments where she could have time to herself, time to think things through. It seemed however that she was to be denied even that wish. She pushed open the heavy wooden doors and headed out into the warm sun. Squinting as the bright light assaulted her eyes, she struggled to recall the other buildings she had passed. There had been a diner across the street, she was fairly certain of that. If she couldn't find peace in the church, maybe she could find it amid the slow mid-afternoon trade of the small diner.


	23. Chapter 23

Kelly signed for the package from the delivery man, and hastily cut short the small talk he tried to engage her in. She didn't notice the look of disappointment on his face as she closed the door; the man immediately forgotten in her eagerness to read the contents of the file that the army had finally come up with for her. She tore at the seal and pulled out the blue folder; skimming through the information and letting out a low whistle before passing the folder onto Kris.

"I don't think Bri's going to like this," she admitted. She didn't elaborate further; simply waiting for her friend to reach the end of the document.

She met Kris' wide-eyed gaze.

"I know. It paints a bit of a different picture of Henry Sullivan, doesn't it?"

Kris shook her head incredulously as she glanced through the document again. "Three counts of burglary, two of attempted carjacking…several arrests for brawling and one for assault with a weapon."

"I know," Kelly shared her friend's disbelief. "It looks as though the army was the making of him."

"I don't think he had much of a choice to make," Kris pointed out. "The army or prison!" She dropped the file down on the table in front of them. "You want to be the one to tell Bri about this?"

Kelly shook her head. "I think this is something we keep to ourselves for the time being."

Kris frowned. "Why?"

"Because it may be nothing. The past may just be that ... the past. It may have absolutely no bearing on what we're doing."

"Bri's not going to like it when she finds out."

"Here's hoping that she never needs to."

Kris looked firmly at her friend. "I think we need to tell her about it. What if what's happening relates to something else that isn't connected with the crash." She gestured down at the file. "I don't think we can afford to keep this to ourselves." She took in the look of uncertainty on her friend's face. "I know it seems unlikely, but we can't discount his past."

"Maybe you're right," Kelly agreed reluctantly. "I was hoping she'd be here." She glanced at her watch. "Bos wanted her to look though those mug shots."

"Maybe she went straight back to Sullivan's place."

"Sullivan's at the base all day; that's why Bri was able to come here," Kelly explained.

"Maybe she's joined him there."

"She told me that she'd spent all the time she ever wanted on Army bases."

Kris frowned. "But you guys spent time on a base a year or so back. It's the story Jill loves to tell about how she nearly busted your arm."

"That was one throw, and that was because I let her win. But you're right. I don't remember Bri having any hesitancy there." She shook her head. "There's certainly something she's not telling us."

"Has she been like this since I left?"

"Pretty much."

"She talk to you about it?"

"No. She shrugs off the subject every time that I try and bring it up."

Kris looked down at the discarded file. "I think it's time the three of us had a talk."

* * *

The afternoon trade in the diner was slow and as Sabrina took her first sip of coffee, she had the quiet suspicion that the pot hadn't been refreshed since morning. The liquid was black, almost tar like, but Sabrina made no effort to rise to her feet in search of milk or creamer. She placed the cup back in its saucer and looked blindly at the paper that had been left behind by the table's previous occupant. Her eyes skimmed across the headlines, not really taking in anything that passed before her.

A shadow fell across her, but she didn't lift her eyes from the paper. A moment later the top of her paper was pulled down and a milk jug held out towards her.

"If your coffee's anything like mine, you'll be needing this."

Sabrina pressed her lips tightly together and tried to ignore the interruption. The voice was unmistakeably that of the woman who'd tried to make conversation with her in the church. She hoped that she'd get the hint and leave her alone.

There was a pause and then she heard the scraping noise of a chair being pulled back.

Sabrina sighed heavily and looked across the table at the woman who was now sat there sipping coffee, a look of calm serenity on her face. For a moment she was jealous of the relaxed attitude the woman seemed to have. She envied her her seemingly carefree nature and gentle manners. She quickly shook the thought off and folded the paper shut. "You spend a lot of your time stalking people?" she asked with more than a note of frustration in her voice.

The woman shook her head as she sipped her coffee. "I only talk to those who look as though they have something they need to say."

Sabrina rolled her eyes. "Well you got that wrong today," she replied tartly. "That person isn't me."

"Isn't it?

"No; it isn't. What you saw was the look of someone who wanted to be left on their own."

"We all of us spend far too much time on our own. Your lighting of a candle told me that there was someone that you needed to talk to."

Sabrina let out a heavy sigh; she just didn't have the energy for the fight. "I really..."

"It's never easy to lose someone that you love," the woman told her softly. "I lost my husband a couple of years ago, and I guess I just recognised that look of loss." A gentle smile flashed across her features. "I was only looking to help. I know just how lonely I was when Sam died."

Sabrina raised her eyes briefly and took in the earnest expression on the woman's face. She immediately felt guilty about the way that she'd reacted. "I'm ok. The person that I lost died a long time ago."

"That doesn't mean that you miss them any the less. I'm guessing that it's a family member?"

Sabrina nodded and looked down at her hands. "My mother," she admitted quietly. "I'd give anything for the chance to have just one conversation... just one adult conversation with her."

"Ahh," there was immediately a look of sympathy on the woman's face. "Losing a parent is so hard on a child."

Sabrina twisted the ring on her right hand and remained silent. She didn't want to be discussing the matter with a complete stranger; she wasn't really sure what had made her answer the question in the first place.

A hand was thrust out in her direction; each finger adorned with brightly coloured rings.

"Alyson," she heard the woman announce her name, the hand not wavering.

Sabrina wanted nothing more than to ignore the handshake and to make her way out of the diner at that moment. There were things that she didn't discuss with her friends; and those were certainly subjects that she wasn't about to launch into with a complete stranger. Good manners however won over her reticence and she shook the offered hand. "Sabrina."

Alyson smiled in greeting and then looked down at her own hands. "It's hard isn't it, being on your own sometimes."

Sabrina remained tight-lipped. Alyson sought to explain herself further. "There are times when friends aren't the ones that you need to talk to. You need someone else." Her mouth widened into a slight smile. "Sometimes a stranger is easier than a friend."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow; not sure that she agreed with the statement.

"I'm not trying to pry," Alyson insisted. "I just want to help." She ran a finger around the top of her cup. "Mother's day making this whole situation worse?"

Sabrina pushed a hand through her hair. "There are so many things I wish I could have told her; so many times that I wanted her advice on something." She tailed off.

"You were left on your own?"

"My father did what he could, but the loss was hard on him too. I don't think he really knew what to do for the best."

Alyson looked at her for a few moments. "I take it you're looking for her advice now?"

Sabrina shrugged. "I guess I just need someone to tell me that what I'm doing is right."

"Do you think it is?"

Sabrina sighed heavily. "That's the problem. I'm not sure. I'm keeping a confidence that I was asked to keep, but now I'm not certain that it's the right thing to do. I'm afraid that I'm letting myself get too involved in what I'm doing and I'm losing my sense of perspective."

Alyson smiled gently. "For perspective, should I be reading the word 'Control'?"

She held up a hand to prevent Sabrina from answering. "I'm not trying to say that it's a negative thing, but I get the impression that you're someone who likes to be in control of a situation. You don't like it when that sense of control starts to slip away, do you?"

Sabrina smiled wryly. "There may be something in that."

"What do you think she would have told you to do?"

Sabrina let out a long breath and tilted her head back, staring up at the white panelled ceiling, trying to recall long past conversations.

"She would have told me that there were times when I had to listen to my head not my heart... that one didn't automatically have all the answers." She gave a half-smile at the memory. "Whatever I do now, it's going to hurt someone...there's just no way of avoiding that."

"It strikes me that you've already decided that doing nothing just isn't an option."

"Burying your head in the sand never solved anything," Sabrina continued staring up at the ceiling. She closed her eyes. "I gave my word, and that has to count for something surely."

"So you keep the secret. What's the downside?"

"The knowledge that I have... it could be important. I owe my friends so much; I shouldn't be holding things like this back from them."

"So is it a question of who has the more to lose by your silence?"

Sabrina pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "I have to tell them, but I owe it to this man to let him know of my decision."

"So there is a compromise?"

Sabrina stared into her coffee cup. "I guess so." She ran her finger around the rim. "I guess I always knew that... I just wanted to hear the words from someone else." Her finger came to halt as she reached a small chip. She ran her finger slowly back and forth across it. "And the worst thing is... I can't remember the sound of her voice... It's there when I dream, but when I awake... it's like...It's like it's just out of reach." She forced a smile onto her face. "At least I have memories...however unclear they might be at times."

"We are the sum of our memories," Alyson told her quietly. "And it sounds as though she'll always be there in your heart."

"When this is over...when this is done, I'll go and visit her. It's been a while," she admitted. "It was so important for me to see her when I was a child, but now, as an adult..." she tailed off.

"It's not so easy?" Alyson finished for her."She'll always be in your heart, and that's the most important thing."

Sabrina looked up as she heard the chair push back from the table. "Thank you," she told the woman honestly.

Alyson gave a gentle shrug of her shoulders. "Hey; it's no problem."

Sabrina watched her as she left the small diner. She'd known the answer all along; known that she couldn't keep everything bottled up forever – even if that did sometimes seem like the easier way to cope. She took another mouthful of coffee and grimaced at its bitter taste. She'd wait another few minutes and then she'd head back to the apartment and level with her friends – it was the least that she owed them.

* * *

Henry's eyes snapped open as the piercng ring of the phone shattered the silence in the apartment. He screwed his eyes shut again, praying that the caller would just give up and go away, but he knew that was a scenario that was unlikely to play out. He'd not been able to face the day at work and had come back home. Missy had been glad to see him back, but the place seemed oddly empty without his young house guest. A generous measure of scotch had seen him doze off in front of the television and now he'd been rudely thrust back into consciousness.

Sighing heavily he pushed himself up out of his chair, his feet slapping down on the cold wood of the floor as he hurried out into the hallway. With shaking hands he lifted the receiver and brought it up to his ear. He almost dropped it with shock as a male voice broke the silence for the first time.

"You'll keep your mouth closed if you know what's good for you. One word about the past and your house guest will be the one you find dead on the kitchen floor when you get home." There was a long pause. Henry struggled to find something to say, but his throat closed up in fear and he found that he couldn't form a word.

"Do you doubt me Sullivan? I can provide proof of my intent. A small accident the next time she drives you to the market... it's all easily arranged."

"No... no," Henry managed to spit the words out, his heart racing.

"That's better," the man's voice told him with a sneer. "One word ...just one word and I promise you that she'll be the one to suffer. Wouldn't want that on your conscience now... would you?"

The line went dead but Henry remained standing there, the dial tone burring loudly in his ear.


	24. Chapter 24

Sabrina took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She'd spent the drive back trying to work out exactly what it was she was going to say. Her friends deserved to know what was happening to Henry, but she still felt as though she'd be betraying the old man's confidence.

She straightened up and pushed open the door. The look of guilt she caught on Kelly's face surprised her but she didn't have time to ask what was going on.

"Wasn't expecting you back so soon," Kelly admitted as she tried to push the blue file into her bag and out of sight. "Bosley's going to be at least another hour or so."

"I didn't come here to look at the mugshots," Sabrina told her as she crossed the apartment. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

Kelly narrowed her eyes. "Are you ok? I'm worried that..."

"I'm fine." Sabrina cut her short. "It's not me I want to talk to you about." She watched as Kris and Kelly exchanged glances. "What's going on?"

Kelly bit her lip and remained silent. It was Kris who finally spoke up. "We're worried. Worried about you, and worried about Henry Sullivan." She paused. "You're not yourself right now."

"I am doing my job," Sabrina snapped back; immediately on the defensive.

"I just think that maybe you're getting a little too close to this one. There are some things about Sullivan that just don't add up. Folks in Menzies weren't keen to talk about him; Carl Douglas seems to think something is up and..."

"Douglas! You're taking that man's word over mine?"

"It's not like that," Kelly found her voice. "You've been through a hell of a lot in the last few days. We were just thinking that it might be an idea to take a step back...try and look at things objectively."

"Objectively! This from the woman who's spending more time with a man who's trying to ruin the good name of our client than trying to find out who's trying to hurt him. This is a man who saved people's lives," Sabrina told them indignantly. "He doesn't deserve this...any of this."

"Has he said what was he doing on the base on the night of the crash in the first place?" Kelly queried "According to the work rosters he was off shift, and Kris has found witnesses that place him in a bar in town only an hour before the crash."

Sabrina shook her head, unwilling to understand what Kelly was getting at.

"There are people out there who owe their lives to Henry Sullivan," she argued. "It's damn lucky for them that he happened to be there."

Kelly met Sabrina's angry expression levelly. "Is it?" she questioned. "Is it just lucky that he was there, or did he have some idea of what was going to happen?"

"I don't believe you can even be thinking this," Sabrina exclaimed. "The man saved lives. He's a hero."

"A 'hero' who has gone out of his way to avoid any media attention, a hero who pretty much seems to deny that he did anything." Kelly looked imploringly at her friend. "I think we need to have a serious talk with Mr Henry Sullivan."

"About what! So he had a drink in a bar. Maybe he kept that quiet because he didn't want to get into trouble with the MPs." She glared angrily at her friends. "There could be any number of reasons. I'm not having the pair of you going over there and interrogating him as though he was nothing more than some kind of criminal." She took in the expression on Kelly's face. "What! What is it?"

She watched Kelly closely as her friend reached into her bag and drew out a blue coloured file that she placed on the table between them.

"What is that?" Sabrina demanded to know; pointing rigidly at the file.

Kelly exchanged a glance with Kris, looking for signs of support.

"We did a little research into Henry's background." She chewed her lip nervously. "He only joined the army because the other option was prison."

Sabrina was silenced by the news. She stared mutely at the folder on the table.

Kelly reached over and flipped it open. "Henry has a long list of misdemeanours going back to the age of fifteen. He was given the choice between joining the army or serving time in the state prison... he chose the army."

Sabrina shook her head. "So? That doesn't prove anything." She opened her mouth to add something but changed her mind. Kelly caught the moment though. She knew what Sabrina had been about to say. Her own childhood hadn't exactly been incident free. She tried to catch her friend's eye, but Sabrina was scanning the contents of the folder.

She'd never deny the trouble she'd been in when she was younger, but it wasn't something that she wanted to dwell on. She'd been a different person back then; there had been a stubborn streak in her, one that didn't always respond well to the discipline of the foster families she'd been placed with.

She silently acknowledged the point that Sabrina had made; it was unfair to judge someone based on the things they did when they were a kid. But there was more going against Henry than that. Kris' investigations and the things that she'd heard from Carl were enough to persuade her that there was more to the tale than Henry was currently admitting.

"He needs to level with us Bri," she attempted to persuade her friend. "There's a chance that what's happening now is in some way tied in with something that happened long before he signed up."

Sabrina grudgingly acknowledged her. "Fine. But I'm going to be the one to talk to him."

"Sure," Kelly agreed quietly. "But you have to face the possibility that he's not been telling the whole truth all these years."

"I'll do my job," Bri told Kelly coldly. "You don't need to worry on that score." She noticed the expression on her friend's face. "What? What else is it that you're not telling me?"

Kelly found that she couldn't hold her friend's gaze. "The tape. Did you mention anything to him about the tape?"

Sabrina opened her mouth, but found that she couldn't form a word. She rose to her feet and paced up and down, trying to bring her anger under control.

"We're not saying that..."

Sabrina spun around to face Kris. "What exactly is it that you're not saying?" she demanded to know.

"We still need to find out how word about the tape got out... and that means checking every angle," Kelly tried to smooth the situation, but Sabrina wasn't having any of it.

"You think Henry sold us out?"

Kelly shrugged her shoulders. "The general did state that he was systematically emptying his bank accounts. If he's a man** that** in need of money..." she let the sentence trail off there, letting Sabrina fill in the blanks.

"I'm not having this conversation with you," Sabrina replied flatly. "I'll speak to Henry. I'll ask what you want, and then you can be the ones to apologise to him."

Kelly let out a long breath as the door to the apartment slammed shut, and Sabrina departed. There were times when her friend was like some unstoppable force of nature; and when that happened, being on the wrong side wasn't the best place to be. She took a deep breath and steadied her own nerves. When her temper came, it grew slowly until she could contain it no longer. Sabrina, for all her public show of control, had a hair-trigger temper when it came to certain things. She would bottle up anything that related to herself, but if someone questioned someone that she believed in, then she could turn on a dime and be on the attack in seconds. When they had first met, Kelly had been wary of this side of her friend; it had only taken a short while to realise that the anger was over in moments and, providing you were a friend, it would be forgotten about by the next time you met.

Kelly shook her head; Jill had told her one night after Sabrina had blazed and walked out on them, that they were family – that's what it amounted to. No-one else was as quickly forgiven as the two of them, and that was special.

Kelly remembered the night with clarity. The feeling of belonging was indescribable. She'd never really planted roots anywhere; but there and then, in that cheap, rundown dorm, she had felt a part of something. They were a team, and she was a part of it.

She looked across at Kris. "Don't worry," she tried to be reassuring. "She'll be back."

The expression on her friend's face told her that she hadn't convinced her.

Kris sat back in her chair. "Now if you had been the one to question her, she wouldn't have gone off on one like that."

"That's nonsense," Kelly admonished her friend. "She's just a little on edge right now."

Kris looked at her with an expression that told her there was more to it than that.

"Face it; at times she thinks of me as nothing more than Jill's little sister!"

"That's not true."

"It is, and you know it," Kris persisted. "There are times I feel like the foolish little sister she never wanted."

"She's just on edge at the moment; don't read too much into it."

Kris raised her hands. "I'm sorry. I just feel as though she's not willing to listen to anything I have to say to her."

"We've just told her that a man she obviously looks up to has potentially been lying to her. Give her some space; she'll come round."

Kris didn't reply, but the expression on her face showed that she was less than convinced.

* * *

Sabrina pulled the car to a halt at the kerb and killed the engine. She pulled the keys from the ignition but made no attempt to exit the vehicle. On the drive over her mind had been constantly replaying the conversation she'd had with Kelly and Kris. She'd gone off the deep end, become too defensive when it came to Henry. She closed her eyes and leant back in the driver's seat, staring up at the roof of the car.

She slammed a hand impatiently against the steering wheel. Why did they have to spring the information about Henry on her in that way? She'd felt as though she had no option but to stick up for him. She felt betrayed by him now. She'd convinced herself that he was being straight with her; the conversations that they'd had, the things that he'd said. She'd believed every word... but he'd kept his past hidden from her. She took a deep breath. Maybe there was nothing in it; maybe the army had been the making of him. She clung to that thought for a few seconds before letting it go. There was no place for sentimentality in the job. She had to be professional about the matter... she smacked the steering wheel again. She had to be professional about the matter and go and interview a dying man about the incident that had made him a national hero.

She jumped as she heard a sharp tap on the window. Turning her head she saw Carl; his hands resting on the door; a look of smug satisfaction on his face. She glanced away, now was not the time for a run in with Douglas. She wanted to do nothing more than twist the key in the ignition and pull away, but Carl's incessant tapping on the glass and muffled speech finally got her attention.

She wound down the window.

"If you're looking for the old fraud then you'll be sorely disappointed," he drawled. "Disappeared out of here an hour ago. None too steady on his feet if you ask me."

"Been spying on an old man again...your mother must be proud!"

Sabrina's words hit their mark. Carl straightened up, his lips curling into a snarl. "Spying...you know all about that."

"Meaning?"

"Give it up lady; I'm not buying the act."

Sabrina bit her lip as she fought to control her escalating temper. "Listen Mr Douglas, I don't know what gutter you're getting your information from but you are way off the mark."

"Really?"

"Really. You'll get nowhere harassing a dy..." Sabrina cut off abruptly as she realised that she was about to reveal something she shouldn't.

"I'm sorry?" Carl's smile widened. "About to reveal something else about that old murderer are you?"

"Get away from me before I call the police," Sabrina snarled; trying to wind the window back up.

"Call them," Carl told her with a smile. "I've got a story they'd love to hear."

Sabrina turned the key and the engine rumbled into life. Carl didn't move. "You'll get what's coming to you; you and the old man."

Sabrina shifted the car into reverse forcing Carl to step away.

He shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun as he watched the car pull out of the parking lot. Any remaining doubt he might have felt was gone. He'd been offered a deal, and he was going to take it.


	25. Chapter 25

Sabrina's hands tightened on the steering wheel as she waited for the gate guard to verify her identity. Her stomach was twisted in knots, and she wanted nothing more than to turn the car around and get as far away from the base as she could. She couldn't run however. She had to talk with Henry; had to find out once and for all what had happened on that night; put all the nagging demons to rest. Images and memories flashed through her mind as the guard waited for confirmation of her identity and she tried to suppress them; there wasn't the time for her own problems to get the better of her; she had a job to do.

"Ma'am?"

She jolted back to reality as the gate guard handed her I.D back to her and waved her through. The metal gate swung open and the base spread out in front of her. Releasing the handbrake she moved the car forward.

The journey from the main gate was like stepping back into the past. She looked out at the well-scrubbed kerb and the immaculately well-kept lawns and was catapulted back into childhood. She slowed the car to a halt and sat there for a moment, the engine of the car idling, as she recovered her composure. Goosebumps covered her arms despite the dry heat of the afternoon, and she fought to steady the thumping of her heart as it raced.

After taking a few steadying breaths, she shifted the car back into gear and headed for the low one storey building that the guard at the gate had directed her towards.

* * *

It proved straightforward enough to find Henry; he was sat on an old wooden bench behind the building; a beer on the table in front of him. From the way that he was using the table to prop himself up; Sabrina had the feeling that he'd been drinking for quite some time.

She watched him for a moment before stepping onto the grass and heading towards him.

He looked up blearily as she called out a greeting; making an effort to straighten himself up.

"I'm surprised to see you out here," he admitted. "I thought you were done with the army."

He noted the solemn expression on her face. "I take it that this isn't a social call?"

"You could say that. A few things have come to light that we need to talk about."

Henry smiled ruefully. "I'm guessing that a few people said a few things about me, and your friends have gone delving into my past." He shrugged his shoulders and then indicated that she should join him at one of the picnic tables that were set up behind the bar. "I never claimed to be an angel," he reminded her. "I did a few things in my past that I'm not particularly proud of, but nothing that I ever deliberately hid from anyone."

Sabrina was slightly put off her thread by his candid admission. Henry spotted the hesitancy.

"You were expecting me to deny it?" he queried. "The army were behind the decision to paint me as some kind of hero. It made for better copy in the papers. No-one wants to thank you if they think that you're some kind of petty criminal." He lifted his glass of beer from the table and took a mouthful. "None of us were heroes Sabrina. We were doing our job and doing whatever it took to make ends meet." He paused. "And you know, I'd give almost anything to have those days back again. Granted I might make a few decisions differently but..." he tailed off as he realised that Sabrina was no longer listening to him. Her mind was somewhere else entirely, her thoughts caught up in something that she was evidently finding it hard to deal with. He noted the way that her fingers were tapping impatiently on the rough wooden surface of the table.

"You ok?" There was genuine concern in Henry's voice as he took in the agitated state of the young woman across the table from him.

"I'm fine."

"No you're not."

Sabrina took a few moments to compose herself before answering. "I've been here before," she admitted quietly. "Swore that I'd never come back."

Henry frowned. "Here?"

Sabrina nodded before apologising. "I'm sorry. It's just more unsettling than I thought it would be." She pointed in the direction of a row of neat little houses. There were a group of children playing on the tiny patch of grass between the houses and the main roadway. "I lived just over there. My mom used to always leave the door on the latch, much to my father's annoyance. He used to tell her that it wasn't safe, and she used to tell him that if she wasn't safe on a US Army base, then she wasn't safe anywhere in the world."

Henry waited until Sabrina lapsed into silence; his expression one of understanding. "If you want to get out of here, you just have to say the word."

Sabrina shook her head, her attention still firmly fixed on the small group of children; the sound of their laughter floating across the still air.

"She used to tell him that she always felt safe when she was on a base. She never had to think about where she was in the country as almost every place seemed to have the same layout. She said that it was a good place for a kid to grow up. She used to..." Sabrina faltered, and Henry let the sound of the children fill the silence until she was ready to speak again. "She used to say that we were part of one big family; that everyone on the base would look out for us and make sure that we were safe."

The pause was longer this time. "Safe," she finally muttered beneath her breath. "Killed in the one place in the world she thought she was safe."

"Let's go," Henry made to rise to his feet, but quickly realised that Sabrina wasn't following his lead. "Come on," he tried to persuade her. "This isn't good for you."

"If I close my eyes I can almost see her standing at the door and telling me to be careful as I'd set out on my bike."

Henry knew that she was now fighting to keep control of her emotions. He stayed quiet and stared across at the group of children. Something had upset the game they were playing and an argument had now broken out between two of the boys. He wanted to tell them to settle their differences; that there would be plenty of time for fights when they were older, but he knew that they just wouldn't understand what he was trying to tell them.

"She always used to tell me that I rode that bike too fast; that I'd only have myself to blame if I fell off of it and broke something."

"But you were young and invincible," Henry told her, deliberately keeping his voice quiet and calm and trying to pretend that he couldn't see the tears that were silently running down her cheeks.

Sabrina smiled thinly at his comment and pushed herself to her feet, wiping away all traces of her tears. "It's your past we need to talk about, not mine."

"I get the feeling that you already know more about it than I do," he told her reproachfully as he took a final drink from his glass. "You can tell me all the sordid details as you give me a lift home."

Sabrina cast one last look in the direction of the small row of houses. "I never did get to tell you that you were right," she whispered beneath her breath, her right hand sub-consciously brushing across her left wrist, for a moment the memory of the weight of the plaster cast sharp in her mind. She watched the children for a few more moments before turning on her heel and heading after Henry.

* * *

Kris hung up the phone and tapped the receiver thoughtfully. Kelly noticed the expression on her friend's face. "What's up?"

Kris waved the concern away. "It's probably nothing. Marian Sullivan's been trying to contact me." She looked down at the number she had scribbled on a scrap piece of paper. "Last time I spoke to her she wasn't interested in talking. I wonder what changed her mind?"

"There's only one way to find out."

Kris pulled a face. "She's not the easiest lady to get on with."

"But if she's got something to say..."

"I know you're right," Kris agreed grudgingly as she lifted the receiver again and tapped in the number that she'd written down.

Marian Sullivan answered on the second ring. After a few awkward pleasantries had been exchanged, Kris asked her why she'd got in touch.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and Kris pictured Marian taking a drag on her cigarette. "Supporting two kids ain't easy," she finally filled the silence on the line.

Kris knew what she was hinting at. She sighed. "I'm sure we can come to some arrangement."

"Yeah? Well I kind of want to know what that arrangement is before I go telling you things. You're not the only market for the information I have."

"Have you been talking to anyone?" Kris failed to keep the hard tone out of her voice. Marian's reply made it clear that she didn't appreciate the way she was being spoken to.

"It's my business who I talk to. Don't need no LA detective telling me who I can and can't talk to."

Kris chewed her lip as she tried to rein in her impatience to get the answers that she needed. "I just wanted to know if anyone had been bothering you in the last few days." She thought about mentioning the sheriff but she didn't want to unnecessarily spook the woman.

"Only person bothering me recently was you," Marian replied testily. "Do you want this information or not?"

"I'll take it," Kris confirmed. "I'll make sure that some money is wired to you. I just want you to promise me that you'll call if anyone starts to hang around, or bother you."

"Fine. Whatever. Well anyway night after you left I got one of those calls from Henry that I told you about... you know the ones where he only calls me when he's being a philosophical drunk? He called me up at around midnight; didn't think that I might not want the kids woken up at that time..."

"What did he have to say Marian?" Kris tried to move the conversation along.

She head Marian suck the air in over her teeth; obviously annoyed at being interrupted. "So he calls me. Can tell straight away that he's been drinking. Got that slur in his voice and that hitch in his breath. Anyways he tells me that he's got news. Tells me that he misses me and wishes things had worked out differently. I thought about reminding him of all the things that he promised but never came through with, but then he goes and blurts out that he's dying."

"What!"

"No build up, no softening of the news, just straight out tells me. Leaves me standing there in my hallway, listening to him breathing, not knowing what to say for the best." There was a pause. "You listening to me?"

"...Yeah," Kris struggled to find the word. "I'm ...here."

"Reckons he's only got a few months left. "

Kelly watched her friend as she hung up the phone. "What's happened?" It was obvious from her friend's demeanour that something was wrong.

Kris shook her head and slowly retook her seat on the couch. She picked up one of the cushions and fiddled with the tassels that adorned the corners. After a few moments she met Kelly's gaze. "Henry's dying." She watched as her friend's eyes widened. "That's what Marian wanted money for telling me." She shook her head. "Can you believe that?"

When Kelly didn't respond, Kris called her name.

"Sorry," Kelly finally apologised. "I was just thinking. Bri's been really distracted the past few days... talking about her mother. I was wondering if it was just the time of year that was bringing the past up..."

Kris caught onto Kelly's train of thought. "You think she knows?"

Kelly shrugged. "I don't know...maybe. Maybe that helps to explain why she's being so defensive, and why she didn't want us speaking to him."

Neither wanted to believe that Sabrina had been keeping things from them, but the more they thought about it, the more likely it seemed.

* * *

Carl hunched down in his seat and watched as the brunette pulled her car to a halt in the parking lot. He watched as Sullivan climbed from her car. He chewed his lip; he had a decision to make. There was a phone booth across the road. All he had to do was make one call, one call and the tape would be his. He wiped his hands on his jeans. It wasn't his concern what happened after that. All he was doing was passing on information. He took a few steadying breaths and waited until the door to the apartment block swung closed before exiting the car.

He fed the coins into the battered phone and stabbed at the buttons. The phone was answered on the second ring.

"She's there with him now," he said, aware of the slight quaver in his voice.

"You've done the right thing Mr Douglas," the man on the other end of the line told him. "When she leaves you know what to do." There was a click as the phone was hung up. Carl replaced the receiver and then rested his forehead on the cool metal surface of the phone, his heart pounding in his chest. He was going to go through with it. He had to go through with it. He straightened up and pulled another dime from his pocket. He'd told Tony that his part in the current business was over, but he had one more favour to call in.


	26. Chapter 26

Sabrina followed Henry into his apartment, watching the way that he was still a little unsteady on his feet. She wondered just how much he'd been drinking. The journey to the apartment had been in silence; both of them caught up with their own demons. It was only now as the silence became uncomfortable that she realised it was time to lay their cards on the table.

"Hey!" Sabrina forced a smile onto her face as Missy bounded around at her feet, demanding attention; pleased to have company. She petted the dog and watched Henry as he took his usual seat. She noted the half-empty bottle and the whisky tumbler at his side but said nothing.

"You want to ask your questions?" Henry asked finally, reaching out for the bottle.

Sabrina opened her mouth to tell him that he'd had enough, but pulled up short.

"This isn't just going to go away," she began to tell him but he laughed at her words.

"You say that like it's news. I've had the same damn albatross around my neck for a long time now."

"I'm sorry."

Henry said nothing, simply staring into his glass; watching the golden liquid as it swirled it around. It was Sabrina who broke the silence.

"One of the reasons that Carl Douglas is so certain that his book is going to make his fortune is because he believes he can get his hands on a full cockpit recording from the flight."

She watched as the expression on Henry's face faltered.

"There's something on there that shouldn't be, isn't there?"

Henry didn't reply.

"You've got to level with me?" Sabrina protested but Henry cut her short.

"Do I? As far as I'm aware I don't **have **to do anything. In a few short months it won't matter to me one way or the other what was on that damn tape."

"Henry please..."

"There's nothing to say. Yes, I joined the army because it sounded better than prison. No, I'm not proud of what I did before I signed up, but that's the past."

"And I'm happy to leave it there, but there's something you're not telling me."

"Maybe there is. Maybe, just maybe it's none of your business."

"Henry, someone is trying to scare you out of speaking about the crash. That's true, isn't it? Someone is scared about something that you know. What is it?"

Henry's mouth was set in a narrow firm line. "That's none of your concern."

Sabrina tried to rein in her anger. She wasn't going to get anywhere if she antagonised him further.

"Please Henry. If I can understand what might be on that tape, then maybe we can finally get to the bottom of what's been going on." When Henry didn't reply she pushed on. "Why was Brandon Wood flying that night?"

Henry shook his head. "I don't know. I was ground crew. It wasn't down to me to organise the lives of the pilots."

"Henry...please. Your regular pilot reported as unfit to fly..."

"Gasperino rolled up drunk for his shift. Maybe he'd had bad news; lost money on a bet...I don't know."

"Was that something he'd done before?"

"Gasperino was a good man," Henry quickly leapt to the defence of his former colleague. "He was a damn good pilot. Won't have a single word spoken against him."

"So you don't know what made Gasperino take a drink that night?"

"Isn't that what I just said!"

Sabrina realised that she was going to get nowhere with that particular line of questioning and turned the matter back to the tape.

"Someone took the recording from the CVR. Someone took that recording and it's only now just come to light."

"So?"

"So someone's pretty convinced that it's incriminating. One of my colleagues was run off the road and nearly killed because she had it in her possession and someone made it plain that they were going to kill me if the copy we had wasn't handed over."

Henry looked as though he'd just had the breath knocked out of him. He sat back in the chair, his expression one of complete defeat.

"I'm sorry," he told her sincerely. He nodded in the direction of the bandages that still covered Sabrina's wrists. "This 'nothing' that you wouldn't tell me about. It was because of me?"

Sabrina nodded. "I didn't hear what was on the tape, but the people who were after it were prepared to go to great lengths to get it back."

Henry regarded her for a few moments and then let out a heavy sigh. "There are a few things I have to explain to you," he told her sadly. "And I very much doubt that you're going to like what you hear."

* * *

Falcone drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. Things were taking too long. Douglas had promised him a result, but he was taking too long. He glanced at the clock on the wall and swore beneath his breath. If there was no word from Douglas within the next hour then the deal was off and he'd have to demonstrate exactly what it was he did to people who let him down.

* * *

Sabrina pushed a hand through her hair and tried to reconcile the man in front of her with the image that she'd grown up with. He seemed a lot frailer in that moment, a lot less like a national hero and more like an aging man who perhaps only had a few more months left.

"You were a hero," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

Henry shook his head. "I carried out the safety checks and deliberately left the gauge with a fault on it."

Sabrina shook her head again. "No." She leant forward to cover his right hand with hers but he pulled away. "I don't believe that."

Henry regarded her for a moment and took in the wide brown eyes that were beseeching him, begging him to say that he was lying. He saw her belief in him and the things that he was supposed to have done and thought his heart would break.

"I'm sorry," he told her, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet, trying to put some distance between himself and her.

Sabrina watched him go, struggling to put her emotions into words. "You're sorry!" her voice shot up an octave. "People died. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"You weren't there. I don't expect someone like you to understand."

Sabrina was momentarily taken aback by the ferocity in Henry's voice; she'd never heard him sound that angry before. "They were your friends," she said breathlessly.

"Nobody was meant to get hurt." There was real anguish in his voice and Sabrina instinctively believed him.

"What happened?"

He shook his head, unwilling to say more.

"Henry please."

"I was in over my head. I needed money and I needed it fast. One bad bet followed another and I was in danger of losing everything... my wife, my kids, my job. There was only one way to get out of the hole, and that was to go along with the plan that one of the guys came up with. Every once in a while the base was used as a storage point for salvage picked up by the MPs or drug hauls seized by teams working overseas. Now that salvage was always well guarded and it was pretty much an open secret on the base just how much it was worth. The plan was simple; rig the plane and make it look as though it had to make a forced landing. When the plane touched down at the pre-arranged point, the waiting team would remove the cargo and make it look as though there had been a robbery. Any investigation would back up the fact that a fault had developed in the instruments, and that a forced landing was the only option." Henry broke off and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing at his eyes. "The flight detail was changed at the last minute. Wood took the plane up and was paid to ensure that Ward was looked after." He raised his head and for the first time made eye contact with Sabrina. "I have to live every day with the knowledge of what I did. Understand that the feelings of guilt have never left me ... never."

Sabrina found that she couldn't hold his gaze. She turned away; looking out of the window; trying to understand what she had just heard.

The sound of the phone shattered the silence that had fallen upon the room.

"I think I need some air," she told Henry quietly.

Henry said nothing and stared down at his hands. Sabrina regarded him for a few moments before turning on her heel and heading out of the apartment, the door slamming behind her, the sound of the telephone still ringing impatiently in the hallway.

She punched at the call button for the elevator and tapped her right foot impatiently, waiting for the car to arrive. Her mind was racing with the information that Henry had told her. She was struggling to reconcile the man she'd grown up thinking of as a hero with the broken man sitting in the apartment behind her.

The doors in front of her slid open quietly and she stepped into the elevator. She knew that Henry wasn't going to go anywhere; it just wasn't his style. She knew she had to call the others and tell them what Henry had just told her, but first she needed some air.

She pushed open the front door to the building and stepped out into the baking hot parking lot, the warm still air, hitting her full in the face.

She closed her eyes and rubbed at them as though she could in some way remove the things that she had just witnessed. She dropped her hands suddenly as a nagging voice in her mind told her that something was wrong. She turned around, realising that she'd not heard the front door slam shut behind her the way that it usually did. She was somewhat surprised to see Carl Douglas standing there, one hand on the door.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"I need to talk to you about Sullivan."

"Now is not the time," she warned him; in no mood to listen to anything the man had to say. She straightened up in surprise as he pulled a revolver from his jacket pocket. "Is that supposed to impress me?" She allowed a half smile to cross her face. "That's really not your style."

She was a little unnerved by the way his expression changed. He wasn't confident handling the gun, but it was obvious that he felt that he was in charge of the situation. She gestured towards the revolver that he grasped awkwardly in his hands. "You want to put that away before you hurt yourself?"

"You and I need to have a little talk about Henry Sullivan," Carl ignored Sabrina's words. "We can do it here, or we can go somewhere a little more private." He paused. "But one way or the other we are going to talk." He gestured with the gun. "Move."

Sabrina stood her ground. "I don't have time for this Mr Douglas..."

"Then make time."

She took a step towards him. "I'm going back up to Henry's apartment; you're not going to stop me, and I'm not going to call the cops. There's no need for this to get this heavy."

Carl shook his head. "I gave you the chance to do this the easy way."

"What..."

She heard the crunch of footsteps on gravel a split second before hands closed tightly around her arms. She opened her mouth to cry out but one hand was quickly moved to smother her cries, the other arm adjusting to wrap tightly around her. She fought against blind panic as her mind flashed back to that night in the apartment.

"I did give you the option," Carl told her flatly as he moved past her to open up the rear door of his car. "Put her in the back."

Sabrina continued to struggle, but the man holding her had little difficulty in forcing her into the back seat of the car before getting in after her. She reached across for the door handle, but a hand closed quickly over her arm and pulled her into place.

"Tony, take this. She tries anything stupid and you have my permission to use it."

Sabrina's eyes flashed angrily at Carl's words. "What the hell are you doing?"

Carl handed the revolver to his friend and then twisted the key in the ignition. "No-one is going to bury this story about Sullivan. You wanted to play at being Sullivan's niece then you can take everything that comes with that."

"You don't know what you're..."

"Tony. She speaks again and you can do whatever the hell it takes to shut her up."

Sabrina glanced out of the corner of her eye at the tall dark-haired man who was sat next to her. He grinned at her and tightened the hold he had on her arm, jabbing the gun into her side.

"There," Carl told her after a few moments. "Now play nice or Tony here might decide to break something."


	27. Chapter 27

_**A third update within a week...it's Easter madness I tell you!**_

* * *

Sabrina bit her lip as Carl slowed the car down. They were out of town now; heading out into the sprawl of factory complexes and warehouse depots. Carl had stopped the car to make a call when they'd reached the outskirts. She'd not been close enough to hear anything that was said, but his mood had been buoyant when he'd returned to the car.

"I thought you wanted to tell a story?" she questioned him.

"Tony!" was the only thing he said by a way of reply.

Sabrina gasped as the gun was jabbed into her ribs.

"I told you to be quiet," Carl reminded her as he flicked on the indicator.

"I thought you had principles." She tried again, knowing that she was running out of time.

The gun was pushed harder against her ribs. "One more word..." Tony growled.

"No no," Carl called back to his friend. "The lady here suddenly seems to have had a change of heart about my motivations. I wonder why? Perhaps it's because she's realised that she's been outmanoeuvred." He glanced at her in the rear view mirror. "You've got a very important part to play in getting Sullivan's story out."

Carl spotted the break in traffic and crossed the highway, taking the car down a rutted road and into the car lot of an old factory. The buildings on either side had seen better days. The panes in the windows were cracked and the tall frontage had been allowed to slowly decay.

Carl drove into the old loading bay and pulled the car to a halt before twisting in his seat to look at Sabrina in the half light. "It's the end of the road."

"I thought you wanted to talk about Sullivan?"

He gave a half-shrug of his shoulders. "I did, but you didn't have the time so I found another way to get to the truth." His expression hardened. "Get out."

He climbed from the car and then opened the door on Sabrina's side of the car. "Slowly. Anything stupid and Tony here is liable to get a little trigger happy."

"This isn't your style," she tried to keep her voice even as she complied with his demands.

"No? How do you know what my 'style' is?"

"I thought you wanted the truth. You think that this is the way to get it?"

"Shut up."

"It isn't. Whatever it is you think that you're doing, this is not the way."

"I said shut up. Now arms straight, hands on the roof of the car."

She watched the tall man with the revolver make his way around to join them. The gun had been steadily levelled at her all the way. Unlike Carl it was apparent that he wasn't a stranger to firearms.

"It doesn't have to be this heavy," she tried to convince him. "We can still..." her head snapped to one side as Tony back handed her. She staggered under the blow and felt a firm hand pushing her toward the car.

"Tony!"

There was fear in Carl's voice and Sabrina twisted her head to look at him. She caught the uncertainty in his eyes before Tony jabbed the gun into her back and ordered her to look straight ahead.

"You don't have to do this," she called out.

It was Carl's shout that saved her from another blow. "No Tony! Ease up."

"Don't listen to her Carl. She's just trying to save her own skin."

"Yeah...maybe."

Sabrina tried to turn to glance at Carl but Tony's hand between her shoulder blades warned her to stay where she was.

"I thought you wanted to get to the truth," she called out. "You think that this...whatever it is...is the right way to do it?"

Carl let out a short bark of a laugh. "I've tried for the past year to get to the truth by legitimate means and been blocked at every turn. Then you turn up on the scene claiming to be Sullivan's niece and making sure that no-one can get close. Then my apartment is searched and warnings are left in my car. I tried to do this the clean way, but you government types are all the same."

"I'm not government," Sabrina attempted to protest, but Carl wasn't willing to listen.

"There is something here that the government wants to keep buried and I am not going to let that happen. Sometimes there's a price to be paid for getting to the truth."

"This isn't what you think..." she tried to explain but Carl waved a hand at Tony and the man kept one hand pressed on her back as he holstered his gun. Moments later he grabbed her right wrist and pushed her against the side of the car. She stiffened as she felt him loop a length of rope around her wrist. She attempted to pull away, but Tony had given her no room for manoeuvre and simply twisted her arm causing her to cry out.

"This will be a whole lot easier if you just let him do his job," Carl advised her.

Sabrina had a growing sense of fear about what was going to happen. "You said that you have access to the truth," she yelled at him. "What exactly is it that you're getting in return for me?" The end of her sentence was little more than a yelp as Tony finished tightening the rope securing her wrists. The tall man spun her round to face Carl.

"I get the truth," he told her simply. "And I'm sorry about the binding... condition of sale I'm afraid."

Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to protest but Carl had heard enough. "They'll be here soon. Make her comfortable," he barked the words at Tony and paced back around the car before climbing behind the wheel.

"You don't have to do this," Sabrina called out to him as Tony pushed her roughly across the uneven floor of the docking bay. "You don't get to the truth through murder."

Carl wasn't listening and her words were lost as he gunned the engine into life and screeched away from the site.

"You're going on a little trip," Tony whispered into her ear. "Not gonna be a real comfy ride, but I'm sure you'll survive."

She heard the sound of another car approaching and knew that she was almost out of options. She tried to break from Tony's hold but it was a futile effort. She managed to pull him off balance for a second and break his grip, but with her wrists bound there was little she could do. He quickly regained his balance and caught up with her, pushing her off balance so that she tumbled to the floor. Without her arms to break her fall, she landed heavily on her left shoulder, her head connecting with the concrete floor.

She was barely aware of her surroundings as Tony hauled her to her feet and dragged her to face the new arrivals.

* * *

Jarek sat in the passenger seat of the car and swore beneath his breath as he realised who was there to meet him. The driver killed the engine and made to leave the vehicle but Jarek stayed his arm,

"That's not Douglas," he spat.

"So we kill them both?"

Jarek grinned. "No. Mr Falcone is keen to see what he's been sold." He tapped the man on the arm. "We carry on as arranged, with one small amendment."

He sat back in his seat and watched as his colleague exited the car and greeted the man who was holding the girl. He'd seen the man before at the apartment complex. He'd given him the bruises that he was still sporting. He tapped his fingers impatiently as the exchange was made and the half-dazed girl transferred into the trunk of the car.

"Hey Lazic," his colleague called out. "The man here wants to know about payment."

Jarek opened the door and climbed from the car, turning to face the man he'd previously beaten. "My employer arranged for the payment to be made directly to Mr Douglas." He stepped forward into a patch of light and heard low swearing as he was recognised. "He requested that she be undamaged." He glanced into the trunk of the car before nodding to his colleague. "You need to secure her legs. Don't want her kicking her way out." As his colleague set to work, he turned his attention back to the other man. "My boss won't be happy with damaged goods."

"Who the hell are you? I thought you were working together?"

Jarek shook his head. "No, but it does look as though she's been getting under everybody's feet."

He heard the trunk slam shut and smiled. "It would appear our business is complete. Just one small loose end to tie up."

Before Tony could say anything Jarek pulled a gun on him. "It always pays to keep things tidy," he remarked as he pulled the trigger, the shot echoing round the empty walls of the loading bay.

* * *

Carl wasn't sure exactly how long the journey home had taken. He had sped away from the factory, eager to get back to his apartment where he'd been assured that the tape would be waiting for him. He pulled the car to a halt at the kerb and leapt from it, not bothering to secure the door. For all he cared the car could be stolen. The tape was the only thing that mattered. He took the stairs two at a time and then jogged the length of the hallway until he reached his own door.

His eyes caught sight of a small fold of white paper. To the casual observer it was nothing but trash, but to Carl it was a sign that someone had entered his apartment. Ever since he'd become aware of someone following him, he'd taken to leaving a fold of paper in the door. It was an old trick, but a reliable one. No-one paid it any attention as it fluttered to the floor when the door was opened, an intruder too pre-occupied with leaving no trace to notice it, but to Carl it was the clearest indication possible that someone had broken in.

He tried to steady his breathing as he pushed the door open and entered his apartment. His eyes scanned the place and fell almost immediately on the plain white box that sat on the glass-topped table in the centre of the room.

He crossed the room and slid the small spindle out into the palm of his hand. This was it; everything that he'd been working to uncover would be proven or disproved by whatever was on the tape. He placed it back in its box and collapsed onto the sofa, staring at the small box. This was it; it was almost too much to take in.

It took a few moments before he noticed the envelope that had been placed beneath the box. He ripped it open and unfolded the sheet of paper within.

His eyes scanned across the typed page, barely taking the words in. His feeling of elation was suddenly crushed. Screwing the sheet into a ball he tossed it across the room. He didn't want to believe what he had just read, but he knew that he had to find out the truth one way or the other. With shaking hands he reached for the phone. He punched in a number and waited impatiently for the call to be answered.

* * *

Sabrina opened one eye and tried to focus on her dark surroundings. She'd been aware of the world around her for the past couple of minutes and had been using the time to try to work out what was going on. The air was hot and stale, and she was being continually jolted from side to side. She closed her eyes as a feeling of nausea washed over her. Now was not the time to be sick. Her brief glance had confirmed her brain's foggy deduction. She was in the back of a vehicle; probably the trunk of a car. She grunted in pain as her head slammed against a rough metal surface. Wherever they were taking her, the road was heavily rutted.

An attempt to move her hands met with resistance. Panic threatened to overwhelm her as she felt rope bite against her already damaged wrists. He'd been there; she'd only seen his face for a split-second through the haze, but it had been him.

She tried to manoeuvre herself to kick out at the lock, but her abductors had been way ahead of her. The rope that bound her ankles tethered her in place. Perspiration prickled her skin and she was jolted violently again as the car rocked from side to side.

She struggled against ropes that were bound tightly around her, but to no avail. Her fear escalated and she frantically tried again, but the only reward was pain as rope bit into her skin. He'd told her that he'd kill her; told her exactly what it was that he would do before he'd put her out of her misery. A small rational part of her brain told her that she should conserve her oxygen in the confined space of the trunk, but it was fighting a battle with blind panic. She'd been in tight situations before, but this was the first time in her life that she was certain she would die.


	28. Chapter 28

_**Huge thanks to LK and LA for the reviews...they do keep me going. Easter break has given me the chance to smarten up a few chapters, so let's keep rolling along.**_

* * *

Kelly had been somewhat surprised to receive a call from Carl Douglas. His voice on the phone had been strained. There was something he wasn't telling her, and no amount of persuasion would make him open up to her. She hadn't wanted to leave Kris but her friend had all but pushed her out of the apartment. Sabrina would call when she'd spoken to Henry, and Kris had made it clear that she could deal with whatever it was that Sabrina had to tell them. The three of them needed to have a long chat about the case and Kris had promised not to make mention of the issue of Henry's illness until they were all together.

The thought that Sabrina had kept that from them still stung, but she tried to push her own emotions to one side. She had to concentrate on the matter at hand; her problems with Sabrina would just have to wait.

She raised a hand to knock on Carl's door but it was opened before she had a chance to complete the action. Carl's body language told her straight away that something was up.

"So what was so important that you couldn't tell me over the phone?"

Carl held open the door and beckoned her in. She wasn't sure why she paused; a voice in her head told her to get out of the building, but she quashed the thought. Forcing a smile onto her face she crossed the threshold.

"I take it that something's happened?"

"You could say that." Carl gestured for her to take a seat and then reached into his briefcase, pulling out an envelope. He opened it up and slid the ¼-inch reel out onto the table.

"That's it?" Kelly questioned, trying to keep her voice calm.

"That's it," Carl affirmed.

Kelly shrugged her shoulders. "Doesn't look like much."

Carl picked up the tape and turned it over in his hands. "This could be it though, everything I need to prove that Sullivan was working for the CIA. This is everything that was said during the last 30 minutes of flight K47."

Kelly shivered involuntarily. "I'm not sure that I want to hear it," she confessed.

"Don't you think that it's kind of eerie, hearing the voices and knowing that the people speaking are about to die?"

Carl shrugged. "They've been dead a long time, and if what they say can help to prove that the crash was no accident then I think they've got a right to be heard."

He rose from his seat and crossed the room in a few strides. He laced the tape around the heads of the machine and then and then stood staring at the play button.

"Have you listened to it yet?"

Carl shook his head and wiped his hands on his jeans. "I was waiting for you. Wanted to share the moment."

Without waiting for a response, Carl pressed down on the play button and the leader of the tape was wound through the heads of the machine.

Kelly felt a shiver run the length of her spine as she listened to the chatter that was taking place on the flight deck. There was a good natured tone to the conversation and Kelly found it uncomfortable to think about the fact that within a few moments the whole situation would change and the men would be desperately fighting to prevent the plane they were flying from going down.

A clear chime broke across the chatter. Carl instinctively leant in closer, listening to the way that the conversation automatically changed.

"It's the oil pressure," the flight engineer reported calmly. There was a long pause as the three men sought to silence the alarm. "Temperature reading as low, but the pressure is high."

There was another period of silence, punctuated by clicks as the pilot checked the instrumentation. "No signs of any problems," he finally announced. "Keep an eye on it, but I'm certain that it's just another false reading. This damn crate's being throwing them up since we took off."

"You certain?"

Carl glanced in Kelly's direction. "That's the co-pilot," he filled in the last of the details for her.

"Keep an eye on it," the pilot relented. "But I can tell you now that it's just something these old crates throw up."

There was no conversation for the next minute as all three of the flight crew kept their attention fully focussed on the planes instrumentation.

The silence was finally broken by a second chiming alarm. There was low swearing from the pilot.

"What is it now?"

There was a long pause before the co-pilot answered. "Fuel imbalance. Engine two is showing as lighter."

"What's he talking about?" Kelly whispered, not wanting to distract Carl from the tape.

"It's the fuel gauge," he told her.

Kelly turned her attention back to the tape.

Carl swore beneath his breath. "This pilot doesn't know what he's doing."

"What do you mean?"

Carl gestured towards the tape machine. "He's flying by instruments alone. He's not listening to the advice of his flight engineer and co-pilot."

"So?"

"So an experienced pilot would know more about his plane and the way that it performs. He wouldn't rely solely on his instruments. Sure it's a skill to be able to fly by instruments alone, but you need to have a feel for your plane; to know what it can do." Carl shook his head. "Problems with the oil pressure, imbalance in the tanks..." he tailed off and then swore beneath his breath. "Hindsight's a bitch. I know what's going to happen."

Kelly wanted to ask him for more information, but Carl's attention was once again firmly on the tape.

"You need to put her down," the co-pilot finally announced. "I'm still seeing evidence of a fuel imbalance. Nearest serviceable strip is Canford."

"No can do. If you can't fix the problem then I have to take her back."

"Canford's nearer," the co-pilot argued.

"But with the recent rainfall, I can't be certain that the strip is serviceable. With this storm on our backs we have to put down. The base is our only viable option."

"Canford had a routine check only last week."

"And I'm telling you that with our current manifest, the only viable option is to return to base."

The co-pilot swore beneath his breath. "This is supposed to be a military flight, not some passenger service for some damned politician."

"That damned politician may just be the man who sorts out a better pension for you and me," the pilot reminded him curtly.

"A better pension is no good to me if I'm dead," the co-pilot snapped back.

"The pressure's gone. The pressure's gone," the flight engineer tried to keep the panic out of his voice as he broke across the burgeoning argument.

"That's not possible," the pilot argued. "My instruments show that there's plenty of fuel in number one tank."

"You can't rely solely on the instruments," the co-pilot argued. "You have to trust your instincts."

"The tank pressure is fine," the pilot insisted. "Transferring fuel has caused an imbalance; that's all."

"You have to put her down," the co-pilot repeated his earlier plea. "I don't care what Ward has offered you; it's not enough. You have to put her down and get this checked out properly."

"If we put her down anywhere it's back at base."

"There's nothing wrong with Canford. You can be over the strip in less time than it will take the tower to give us a clear landing strip at the base."

The warning alarm broke through the tense atmosphere in the cockpit.

"We are turning back to base," the pilot announced. "Get onto the tower at Menzies and warn them that we may have to declare an emergency landing. Get the strip cleared and the emergency services on standby."

There was immediate disagreement from the co-pilot, but Wood the pilot was in no mood to listen.

"Damn." Carl's voice cut across the tape once again. "Sounds as though there was a fuel leak in the line to the right engine. The transfer he carried out caused fuel to be wasted through the leak on the other side."

Kelly was struggling to follow what Carl was saying but she could tell by his expression that he had just made some important discovery.

"Damn." Carl rose to his feet and walked over to the counter. He poured himself a large scotch and downed it in one. He refilled the glass and then turned to Kelly as though suddenly remembering that she was in the room. "Can I get you one?"

"Sure." She crossed the room and turned off the tape, the click of the machine echoed around the room. "Are you going to tell me what that was all about? You obviously got something out of that that I missed."

Carl poured the drinks and then made his way back to the sofa. He handed a tumbler to Kelly and then took a seat.

"It tells me that Henry Sullivan has a lot to answer for."

"I don't understand."

"Henry Sullivan was ground crew for that plane. It was his job to make sure that the plane was serviceable before it took to the skies."

Kelly was struggling to put the pieces together. "And you're saying that he missed something?"

Carl strode across the room and pulled a sheaf of papers from one of the folders piled on his desk. He dropped them on the table in front of Kelly.

"This is a copy of the accident report, compiled by the Army's own investigation team. "It clearly states that there was nothing wrong with the fuel tank or the gauges."

"But…."

"...Yeah ... it was a lie. For all I know the whole report is a pack of lies. The tape clearly shows that there was something wrong with the fuel supply. I'd put money on there being a leak in the number two engine."

Kelly shook her head. "Why would they cover up something like that?"

"The national media has just made a hero out of the very man who was responsible for the crash ... Why do **you** think they covered it up?"

"Can you be sure that the tape is saying what you think it is?" Kelly was struggling to explain what was going on.

Carl's laugh was incredulous. "You heard it for yourself. The pilot ignores the flight engineer and the co-pilot. He's obviously under orders to get Ward back to the base if anything goes wrong." He paced impatiently around the room. "This is the break I've been waiting for. This is it...Man ... this book is going to blow the whole thing wide open."

Kelly watched as Carl became more and more animated. She'd realised that he was passionate about the book that he was writing, only now did she truly realise just how devoted to his subject he was, and the intensity scared her a little.

"How can you be sure that the tape isn't a fake?"

Carl turned on her. "A fake! You think that I wouldn't know if it wasn't real?"

Kelly held up her hands. "Hey, it's the first time I've heard their voices. Have you heard them before? Isn't it possible that someone just got a little creative in the editing suite and spliced a little something together that they thought you wanted to hear?"

Carl shook his head decisively. "Oh no, the people I got this tape from... they're on the level, no mistake about that."

He turned his back on her and hurried over to his tan briefcase He rummaged through it, finally coming away with a folded map that he proceeded to spread across the table's surface.

Kelly kept her expression neutral, trying to mask the fear that was beginning to settle around her shoulders. "Just what did this cost you?"

"What do you care?" he asked casually as he pressed the map flat and began tracing a finger across it, trying to locate Canford's air strip.

"I don't want you getting yourself into trouble," she told him sincerely.

Carl shook his head. "Oh, I'm not the one in trouble. Don't worry yourself about that." There was a pause and then he stabbed at the map with one finger. "Ah hah. There it is." He looked around for something to mark the map with.

"Implying that someone else is?"

"What?"

"In trouble."

Carl shrugged his shoulders. "Kelly what's going on? I've just discovered what is practically the single most important piece of information in years, and you're babbling on about ...about something trivial."

"If someone gets hurt, then you could find yourself in a whole lot of trouble," she warned him. "That's not trivial."

Carl angled his head, suspicion plain on his face. "Why are you so concerned all of a sudden?"

"I just don't like the idea of anyone getting hurt."

"Even if they have it coming?"

"No-one has it coming," she told him firmly.

"Oh come on," Carl scoffed. "You're not going to tell me that you have sympathy for that old murderer or those who protect him, are you Kelly? The man was responsible for the deaths of his colleagues."

"We don't know that for sure."

"Were you listening to the same tape that I was?" he demanded to know, his voice rising an octave. "Sullivan did a job on that aircraft and a state senator was killed as a direct result. In my books that's murder, and anyone who tries to keep that quiet is complicit...whether it was back then or now."

"You can't convict a man on the strength of that tape alone," she tried to convince him. "Although I agree the evidence appears pretty damning."

Carl shook his head, failing to understand Kelly's concern. "I don't know why you're so concerned about that old bastard. If it's any consolation to you, he's not in any danger, although that snotty nosed broad who's been hanging around pretending to be his niece has finally got what's coming to her."

"What!" Kelly's senses were immediately on the alert. "What's happened to her?"

"Why should you care? She's some government lackey who's done nothing but get in my way since she appeared on the scene. I'd say she's got her just desserts."

Kelly was caught in two minds; she had to find out just what Carl was talking about, but revealing her concern for Bri could jeopardise the work that she was doing.

"I don't want anyone getting hurt because of us," she told Carl in what she hoped was a calm tone. "There has to be some other way of doing this; some way that doesn't end up with people being hurt."

"You're never going to get anywhere in this business if you don't toughen up," he warned her. "The people I'm dealing with want to find a way to hurt Sullivan; I sold them the story that that broad was touting about being Sullivan's niece. I got the tape in return for her."

"What!"

Carl mistook Kelly's fear for disbelief. "Damn fools should have checked the merchandise before conducting the deal. Can't imagine that they're going to be too happy when they find out who she really is. It serves her right for lying to me"

"They'll kill her," Kelly muttered softly.

Carl shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe. Either way, she'll be out of our hair now."

"Contact them. Tell them you made a mistake," Kelly told him, a sense of urgency in her voice.

"And why would I want to do that?"

"When they find out who she is, then surely they'll come after you," Kelly thought quickly on her feet. "And if they don't then the government certainly will."

Carl shook his head. "I don't think so. And as for the government. They're hardly likely to hold their hands up and admit that they had a CIA agent assigned to keep Sullivan safe." He closed the distance between himself and Kelly and placed an arm around her shoulder. "This one little tape is going to make me a fortune. What's a little collateral damage compared with that?" He tapped the white box. "This is my Watergate. This is the story that's going to make me famous."

Kelly did her best to smile and look pleased. Inside she was feeling sick to the stomach.

"Nothing to say?"

Kelly slipped out from under his arm and took a pace away. "I can't let you do this."

She waited for Carl to say something, when he didn't reply, she turned back to face him; surprised to see a gun in his hand.

"I'm really sorry about this. I really wanted it to be a lie...I really did."

Kelly tried to pull her gaze away from the barrel of the gun that was pointed at her. "What the hell?"

Carl shook his head. "When he told me on the phone that you were working with her, I didn't want to believe him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kelly tried to protest but Carl waved for her to be silent.

"Don't...don't make it worse." He gestured towards the sofa. "Sit down. They'll be here for you soon."

"You don't have to do this," Kelly told him, not making any effort to move.

"Shut up."

"This isn't you. This isn't the man I've been seeing. Whatever they promised you, it's not worth taking a life for." She nodded in the direction of the tape. "Is that really worth killing for?"

"I thought you understood."

"I thought you were looking for the truth. I didn't believe that you'd do something like this." She paused. "What's happened to my friend?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"Carl please. You can still get out of this. Just tell me where she is."

He shook his head. "It's too late for that."

"No. It's never too late." She took a pace towards the door. "I need to find her. I'm going now and you won't stop me."

She held her breath and took a pace toward the door, hoping that she'd gauged the situation correctly.

Carl opened his mouth to say something but found that he couldn't. His mind flashed back to the loading bay and the look on the woman's face. He'd sold her out, and he'd not stopped for a second to think about what would happen to her once he'd handed her over. He swallowed and tried to push the thought aside, but the feeling of guilt just wouldn't leave him.

He stood mutely and did nothing as Kelly opened the door and left the apartment.

* * *

Kelly took the steps two at a time, racing to get back back to her car. She contacted the mobile operator, and waited impatiently for the call to connect.

"Bos? Kelly. We've got trouble." She didn't wait for Bosley to respond, she ploughed straight on with her news. "If Carl Douglas is telling me the truth then Sabrina's in a lot of trouble. Do you know where she is?" Kelly held her breath, hoping that Bos was going to tell her that Bri was there in the room.

"She's not called in."

Kelly swore under her breath and quickly explained to Bos the deal that Carl had struck.

"I'll get hold of the mobile operator and see if she's in her car."

Kelly hung on the line for what felt like an age. The tone of Bos' voice was enough to tell her that the news was bad.

"There's no reply," Bosley told her. "I'll talk to Henry; check that he hasn't received any calls this morning."

"Hurry Bos, I've got a bad feeling about this."


	29. Chapter 29

The jolt as the car came to a halt roused Sabrina. Her head was pounding and she still felt nauseas. She'd been fighting to keep her eyes open for the last ten minutes or so, and the effort was starting to prove to be too much. Her eyelids were impossibly heavy, but she knew that she couldn't afford to allow herself to slip into unconsciousness. Her skin was damp with perspiration and she didn't want to think about how hot and airless the trunk had become; suffocation or the effects of carbon monoxide; she wasn't sure what was winning, but she knew that time wasn't on her side.

The car rocked gently and then she heard both doors slam shut. She felt her heart rate increase, straining her ears, trying to hear if they were coming to let her out, or leave her to die where she lay. It was a feeling almost of relief as she heard a door open again and then the lock on the trunk popped open. Fresh air filtered in through the narrow gap and she greedily breathed it in; aware of just how close and stifling the trunk had become.

Moments later her world was flooded with light and she closed her eyes against its painful invasion. The air felt cool on her perspiration-drenched skin but she had little time to enjoy it.

"Come on," a voice she recognised growled at her. She squinted and tried to get a look at her surroundings. She could make out nothing but the clear blue sky above her and the dark shadows of the two men who loomed over her.

She flinched as she felt hands working at the rope that tethered her in place.

"Don't worry," Jarek told her coldly. "It's not the end of the road just yet."

As his companion un-looped the last of the rope from around Sabrina's ankles, Jarek reached forward, a canvas sack in his hands. "Can't have you getting the lay of the land," he told her as he pushed the heavy material over her head.

* * *

Jarek kept a tight hold on Sabrina's arm as he pulled her along. He didn't break pace as she stumbled over the uneven ground. He simply swore at her and urged her along. The darkness was disorientating and claustrophobic and she had no idea of where they were going. Questions were whirring around in her head, but there was no opportunity to ask any of them.

He came to an abrupt halt and she barrelled into the back of him. He swore again and pushed her up against a wall. She could hear keys jangle and then the sound of a door opening. He grabbed her arm again and pushed her forcibly into the room. She staggered and tried to maintain her footing. The door slammed shut and she heard the key turn in the lock. She tried to calm her breathing and work out whether Jarek was in the room with her or not.

She flinched again as the canvas sack was pulled from her head; gasping at the air; relieved to be able to breathe freely again. A hand closed around her left shoulder and pushed her back across the room. She slammed into the wall and moments later Jarek was in front of her.

"Sit down."

She tried to shake the hair from her face, and swayed unsteadily as her body protested at the movement.

"I said sit down," Jarek repeated and pulled his gun from where it had been holstered at his side. A memory flashed through her head. It passed through so quickly that she almost didn't catch it. In the docking bay...the car trunk had shut and her world plunged into blackness, but there had been a sound; a sound that had been muffled by the metal surrounding her. She stared down the barrel of the gun, not needing to ask the question. He meant the threat; it wasn't just empty words with him. Her eyes fixed on the gun, she lowered herself towards the floor.

"This is better," he told her matter of factly. "Now stay there, and be silent."

He turned his back on her and strode from the room. The metal door closed behind him with a loud bang and she heard the sound of a key being turned in the lock. Moments later the small storeroom was plunged into darkness as the light was extinguished.

* * *

Jarek locked the door to the small room and headed back down the unlit passageway, the smell of cigarette smoke in the air telling him where Falcone was waiting. He squinted as he headed out of the abandoned building and into the bright sunshine.

Falcone didn't bother to turn his head to acknowledge him, but took a final drag on his cigarette before letting it drop to the floor.

"I take it that there were no problems?"

"Douglas left before we arrived," Jarek admitted and watched the way that Falcone's jaw clenched with annoyance. "But he did deliver as promised."

Falcone ground the cigarette butt into the loose shale at his feet. "I assume that someone is paying Mr Douglas a visit to collect the second part of the deal?"

Jarek nodded. "The second pick up will take place soon. I thought it best to bring the girl straight here."

"You did the right thing. There are a few things I want to discuss with our guest, but first I think it's time we let Mr Sullivan know the lay of the land."

* * *

Kelly slowed her car to a halt as she caught sight of Kris searching the area in front of Henry Sullivan's apartment block. She parked the Mustang in an empty space and called out to Kris.

"You found anything?"

Kris raised her head from her searching. "Nothing. Nothing to say there was a struggle, nothing to say that anything happened at all. If it wasn't for the fact that Bri's car is still parked here, I'd question the whole kidnapping angle."

Kelly looked round at the quiet streets surrounding her. "You think any of our friendly neighbours saw anything?"

Kris shrugged. "The moment Bos and I showed up the curtains started twitching."

"But no-one's actually come out to offer help?"

"Not as yet."

Kelly looked around. "Where is Bos?"

Kris jerked a finger in the direction of the apartment building. "He's with Sullivan."

"You ok here?" Kelly checked. "I think I need to have a word with our Mr Sullivan."

"Go right ahead, Kris encouraged, "From the look on Bosley's face when he left me, I don't think it's safe to leave Sullivan alone for too long."

* * *

Kelly tapped on the half-open door as she entered the apartment.

"Bos, you in here?"

"Come on in Kelly, Bosley called out. "Mr Sullivan was about to tell me what he and Sabrina were discussing right before she left."

Kelly left the narrow entranceway and entered the main living area. Henry Sullivan was seated, slumped in a chair, his hands clasped together in his lap, his expression one of agitation.

"I don't understand what's going on," he told Kelly plaintively. "None of this has anything to do with Sabrina."

Kelly grimaced. "Unfortunately, the people who are after you don't quite see it that way."

Henry sighed deeply. "So, what do we do now?"

"There isn't much we can do," Bosley told him. "We have to wait for them to contact us."

"Isn't there something you can do?"

"Short of going around knocking on every single door in the city, I don't see what we can do," Bos replied sharply.

Kelly shot him a warning glance, telling him to ease up.

"We have to wait for them to contact us," she told Henry. "The chances are that they'll phone or make a letter drop soon."

"How can you be so calm about it?"

"Trust me," Kelly informed him. "We're just as concerned as you."

"More so," Bosley added. "Just what went on up here that caused Sabrina to leave?"

"Bos," Kelly warned again, but Henry held up a hand to indicate that he wasn't offended.

"We talked about what really happened on the night of the crash."

"You tell her all about the little 'job' you did on the aircraft?"

Henry turned to look at Bosley. "I'm not proud of what I did Mr Bosley and I've had to live with the guilt of my actions for the past 15 years."

An awkward silence descended upon the room, moments later it was shattered by the intrusive ring of the phone. Henry jumped and then glanced towards Kelly. She indicated that he should take the call.

Henry stared at the ringing phone, not wanting to deal with what lay ahead. He flexed his fingers and took a deep breath before reaching for the receiver.

"Hello?" He hated himself for the quaver in his voice but there was nothing he could do about it.

"We have a little something you may want back," the male voice told him coldly.

"What have you done to her?" Henry demanded to know, ignoring the gestures from Kelly, warning him to remain calm.

"We've not done anything yet," the reply came back. "But her life is very much in the balance right now."

"I want to talk to her," Henry snapped.

There was a pause on the other end of the line before the reply. "That's not possible right now."

"What the hell…"

"Temper, temper Henry," the male caller's voice cut across his. "A rash move on your part could result in permanent injury."

Henry swallowed and tried to rein in his temper. "What do you want?" he asked quietly.

"You."

"And you'll guarantee the safe return of…"

"You're not in a position to start making conditions Henry," the caller told him in a warning tone. "You'd do better to shut up and listen…unless you want another death on your conscience."

"If it's me that you want then why did you take her?"

"I did warn you. I told you that she'd be next."

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Worry," came the answer finally. It was followed moments later by a clicking noise and the dial tone.

Kelly registered the change in expression on Henry's face and realised that the call must have come to an end.

"What did they say?" she asked gently, trying to contain her own worry. She waited a few seconds for a response before asking the question again. Finally Henry seemed to remember that someone else was in the room. He lowered the phone, replacing the receiver in its cradle before meeting Kelly's expectant gaze.

"What did they ask for?" Kelly tried phrasing the question differently.

"Me," Henry replied simply.

Kelly exchanged a quick glance with Bosley, wondering just how hard she should attempt to push things. "Did they make any demands?"

Henry shook his head slowly. "He told me that he wanted me to worry."

"Nothing more than that?"

"Nothing more than that," Henry confirmed simply.

"And they didn't let you speak to her?"

Henry shook his head again. "They said that it wasn't possible." He caught the glances that Kelly and Bosley exchanged. "I'm certain that they have her and that she's still fine."

"But they didn't give you any deadlines or demand any money?" Bosley queried. "That doesn't sound right."

"Maybe they're just making me wait. He did say that he wanted me to worry."

"It's possible." Kelly agreed, turning her head as Kris entered the apartment. "You get anything useful from outside?"

"A woman in the building opposite said that she saw two men helping a woman into the back of a car. She thought that the woman had fainted, judging by the way that she was being helped."

"That would tally with the caller saying that it wasn't possible for Bri to talk," Kelly reasoned.

Kris held up a hand. "Wait a minute…There's been a call?"

Kelly nodded. "Just now, but nothing concrete for us to go on."

Kris pushed a hand through her hair. "I don't understand this. If someone is after Henry, why take Bri?"

"Carl Douglas told his contact that Bri was Henry's neice," Kelly admitted. "If whoever is behind this lost someone in the crash, then maybe they see taking Bri as their chance to inflict a little pain back."

Henry cleared his throat. "There is something else..." He pushed himself out of the chair and made his way over to the desk by the window. He pulled open the top drawer and drew out the letter that he'd received the previous day. It was now crumpled from where he'd hurriedly stuffed it into his pocket. He flattened it out as best he could and handed it to Kelly.

"I thought they were talking about Missy," he protested reaching down and stroking the head of the dog who was keeping close to her master. "It was the morning after we'd found the dog's corpse on the floor, and I thought they were meaning they'd take her next."

"That could turn out to be one very costly assumption," Bosley snapped.

Kelly wished that she could disagree with him. "Did you recognise the voice?"

Henry shook his head. "Beyond the fact that it's the same man who rang here warning me to remain silent."

"There's no sign of Carl's car outside. He was very jumpy when I asked him where he'd got the tape from. I think it's about time I had a serious conversation with him."

Kris looked sadly at her friend. "You want me to go and see him?"

Kelly shook her head. "This is something that I need to do."

* * *

Carl fumbled with the zip as he struggled to close the bag. He cursed and forced the contents down before trying again. He'd gone over the situation in his mind for the last few minutes and there was only one solution as he saw it. He swung the bag up onto his shoulder and then picked up his tan briefcase. Everything that he'd fought to uncover about the crash was contained within it. He'd given up too much to let things go now. Taking a final look around the apartment he headed for the door. Pulling it open he was surprised to see a tall figure standing there.

"Going somewhere Mr Douglas?"


	30. Chapter 30

Kris paced impatiently across the small apartment, frustrated at not being able to do anything but wait. She felt Henry's eyes on her as she strode back and forth. She wanted to be angry with him but he cut such a dejected figure that she found it hard to blame him for what was going on. Bosley on the other hand didn't seem to have any problems in questioning Sullivan. She heard him ask again about the calls.

"I had phone calls at all hours. Nothing but dead air on the other end of the line. I had no way of knowing who it was." Henry sounded worn out.

"But you had an idea, didn't you?" Bosley pushed the point home.

Henry nodded sadly. "There was always a voice at the back of my head telling me that this might have something to do with the money I owed."

Kris tapped Bosley on the arm, and indicated with a nod of her head that she'd take over. She could see the state that the man was getting into and upsetting him further wasn't going to help.

"Tell me about the man you owed," she asked gently.

Henry wiped a hand across his face. "Jack Falcone was always a nasty piece of work. He was the sort of man who'd loan you $30 on a Friday and want $60 back the following week. He'd hang around the base, waiting for you to get down on your luck, or he'd set up the tables in the bar in town and wait for you to lose everything." Henry shook his head. "Never could turn down a hand of cards," he admitted reproachfully. "If you didn't pay up then he went straight for the weak spot; threatening family and friends with nasty accidents. He went through with it too." He shuddered at the memory. "There's more than one G.I whose kid broke an arm in circumstances that could never be properly explained."

"Anyone ever try and report him?" Kris asked the question; afraid that the answer might not be one that she wanted to hear.

Henry smiled thinly. "Sheriff must have known something about it. No-one ever took Falcone in though; whether that was because he paid the Sheriff off or had something on him I never knew."

"And you think this Jack Falcone is the one behind what's going on?"

Henry let out a slow breath. "I can't think of anyone else who'd go to such lengths."

"You do realise that if you'd levelled with Sabrina at the start then we wouldn't be in this situation now," Bosley couldn't let the matter go. Kris gently took his arm and pulled him to the other side of the room.

"Bos!" she warned him. "We're not going to get anywhere if you scare the living daylights out of the man. We've got to take this gently. Let us handle it."

Bosley held up his hands. "I'm sorry, you're right. It's just..."

"I know," Kris agreed with him. "But we could do more harm than good if we pressurise him." She patted Bosley gently on the arm and then returned to Henry's side.

"I saw your ex-wife when I went to Menzies. She mentioned that she'd been having problems with The Watch hanging around the school and intimidating your kids. Now whatever I might think of The Watch, I don't think that they get their kicks by intimidating school kids." She paused. "Do you still have contact with your children?"

Henry nodded slowly and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing at his face. "They write me every so often. David mentioned in his last letter that someone had been asking him about me. I just thought it was one of those crash freaks." He paled. "You think it was Falcone, don't you?"

Kris nodded. "I certainly think that it's something we have to weigh up. The army has been good at keeping your location quiet, but Carl Douglas shook the tree somewhat when he turned up in Menzies and started asking questions."

"Sabrina told me that you'd had trouble of your own in Menzies."

"Yeah. That was the first time I heard Falcone's name mentioned." She shuddered. "I think he had Sheriff Matthews killed."

Henry looked down at his hands. "Matthews turned his head to avoid seeing a lot of what went on in that town, but he didn't deserve to have that happen to him."

* * *

Sabrina was trying to think rationally about the situation, but there was a knot of fear in her stomach that she just couldn't shift. She had no idea who the man was who had brought her here, but he had made it clear on their first meeting that he had no problem with the idea of killing her. She closed her eyes and tried to forget about how close he'd come to doing just that back at the apartment.

She pressed her hands against the wall behind her and lowered herself back down to the floor as she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. She'd examined the room as best as she could, but there was precious little light filtering in through the gap around the door and her bound wrists made navigating the dark space just that little bit harder. She'd found nothing; the place was bare of any furnishings; there was certainly nothing she could use to help her out of her current situation.

She felt her pulse rate quicken as the key was turned in the lock and the door thrown open.

A tall man in a well tailored suit was framed in the doorway; the gun in his shoulder holster ruining the cut of the suit. He grinned wolfishly at her. "So you're what all the fuss is about."

Sabrina said nothing, waiting for the man to continue. He stepped into the room, light streaming in behind him. He looked her over, frowning as he took in the bruising on her face and neck. "The order said undamaged. Seems as though you can't trust anyone to get anything right these days."

"What do you want?"

"It's not about what I want," he told her with a smile. "It's about what you're worth. Sullivan doesn't meet the valuation and I kill you." He shrugged. "As deals go, it's straightforward enough."

"You went to a lot of trouble to get me here. You wouldn't do that if you were just going to kill me."

Falcone smiled thinly. "Is that what you think?"

Despite her bound hands Sabrina shrugged her shoulders. "In my experience there's always a money motive."

Falcone's smile grew. "Oh and you know everything about people, do you?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I do this because I'm good at it. I don't get the money I want, and I get to kill you. That's something I think I'll enjoy as much as the money."

Keeping his eyes locked with hers Falcone drew his handgun from its shoulder holster and placed the end of the barrel against Sabrina's left temple, adding pressure until she was forced to look away as her head turned to the right. "I find that a headshot does it," he told her conversationally. "It's a little messy, but it gets the message through."

Sabrina swallowed, trying to hide the creeping sense of unease that was eating its way into her consciousness. She turned her head back to see that Falcone was still staring at her, a humourless smile on his face.

"There are plenty of other things I could do to you. It doesn't have to be quick and clean. I've got people on the books who'd probably pay me for the chance to practice their craft on you." He shrugged his shoulders and looked down at her dispassionately. "That's all down to Henry."

He re-holstered his gun and crouched down until his face was only inches away from hers. "If you think that I'm going to make some kind of exception because of your age or sex, then you're very much mistaken. This is business and you are the leverage. If Henry Sullivan doesn't pay the bill he owes then your family will be finding out the hard way exactly what it is you've left them in your will." He straightened up. "Assuming that is that there's enough left of you to identify."

Satisfied that he'd got the message across he turned and headed for the door. "Don't worry," he called back over his shoulder. "This is one time that I want to make sure that the corpse is identifiable. I owe Henry that much."

Sabrina felt her breath come in ragged gasps as the room was once again plunged into darkness. She realised that he meant what he said. If Henry didn't come through for her, then she was as good as dead.

* * *

Kelly raised a hand and knocked firmly on the door. She'd already tried the bell but there had been no answer.

She began to feel a little uneasy. From what Henry had said about Falcone, there was no reason to suppose that he would keep his end of the deal with Carl. If she'd been part of the deal and Carl had failed to deliver, he was going to be in a lot of trouble. He might be many things, but she didn't believe that Carl was a fighter.

She was about to leave the door in search of the building super when she caught sight of a flash of white out of the corner of her eye. She crouched down and lifted the small folded square of white paper from where it had fallen. She looked up at the door. Someone had been here; someone who didn't know Carl's level of paranoia. She dropped the paper and unzipped her handbag, drawing out her revolver.

Taking a steadying breath she tried the handle of the door and was unsurprised when it gave under gentle pressure. She resisted the urge to call out Carl's name, and instead stepped silently over the threshold.

If someone had paid a visit to Carl's apartment, there was always a chance that they were still there.

She padded gently into the small apartment; the blinds were drawn and the whole place was in semi-darkness. She resisted the urge to switch the light on and instead took a pace into the main living area and waited for her eyes to grow accustomed to the gloom.

The place had been trashed. Every shelf had been cleared, every drawer turned out. This wasn't some run of the mill break in; this had been a thorough methodical search; no hiding place left unchecked. She quickly scanned the room; hoping that Carl had been out when his visitors had arrived on the scene.

There was a faint glow of light from an adjoining room and so, stepping carefully over the mess on the floor, Kelly made her way towards it. She pushed gently on the door and it swung open noiselessly on well-oiled hinges.

The small study had received the same sort of treatment as the rest of the apartment. Files had been tipped out onto the floor; papers scattered everywhere. It was one of the black and white photographic prints that caught her attention however.

Staring back up at her was the face of her friend. She crouched down and sifted through the untidy pile of prints. They all looked as though they'd been taken from Carl's car. What disturbed her was that Sabrina seemed to be the focus of every one of them. Sullivan was in some of the shots, but the framing made it clear who the real subject of the composition was. He'd told her that he'd worked out that she wasn't Sullivan's niece, but now Kelly was wondering just how much investigation into Sabrina he'd carried out. She slipped the prints under her arm and quickly searched the rest of the room. There was no sign of the tan briefcase or the reel of tape, but she wasn't unduly surprised.

* * *

Carl blinked as the canvas bag was removed from his head. His eyes were wide as he scanned the room, trying to get his bearings.

"We had a deal Mr Douglas," a man's voice broke the silence. "We had a deal and you were paid handsomely for it."

"You want the tape back you can have it," Carl stammered, trying to regain his wits as he took in the man in the smart suit.

The sound of laughter reached his ears. "I can take that tape back any time that I want. Oh no Mr Douglas, that's just not good enough. We had a deal and you have failed to keep your end of it."

"I gave you the girl."

"But that was only part of the deal. Where is the other?"

Carl chewed his lip. "She has nothing to do with this. She will say nothing."

"That's not what I asked," the man reminded him. "The two of them were working together. One of them out there is as much of a threat as two of them. I may kill one of them, but that will not make the other go away. I really do not have time for the chase."

"What are you going to do?"

"I will send one of my men out to tidy up the mess that you made, but I'm afraid that isn't the end of it." He smiled. "When someone steps out of line a message needs to be sent. You will be that message Mr Douglas."

Carl looked around in fear as the smart suited man left the room. He made a move towards the door but the door frame was filled by another, taller man.

"Why the rush?" the man asked him. "What I have planned will take several hours at least."


	31. Chapter 31

Kris watched as Henry paced back and forth across the apartment. He alternated between staring out of the window and glancing at the clock on the wall. It was nearly midnight and there had still been no more word from Falcone.

"They'll call," she told him quietly.

Henry stopped his pacing and turned to regard the young detective. "You believe that?"

"I have to."

He let out an impatient sigh and paced towards the window again. "I shouldn't have let her leave like that," he muttered reproachfully. "I should have made her stay."

"It's not your fault," Kris tried to tell him; knowing that he'd be of little use to them if he got himself into a state.

"I shouldn't have said anything, not after her experience on the base."

Kris was on the alert. "What happened at the base?"

Henry tried to shrug the matter off. "Nothing that relates to this."

"Henry right now we can't be sure what does or doesn't relate to what's going on. You need to tell us everything."

"You know what the date is... don't you?" He looked at the blank look on Kris' face. "She hasn't told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Well you know that this is where her mother died?"

He watched as Kris' eyes widened.

"She didn't say anything to you?"

Kris shook her head mutely. "I had no idea. Kelly said that she'd been withdrawn, but we never suspected ..."

"She came out to the base to see me, and I think being back there shook her up more than she thought it would." He searched her face again, looking for some spark of recognition. "You really don't know anything about this, do you?"

Kris felt uncomfortable. This man in front of her who'd only known Sabrina for a few days already seemed to know more about her friend than she did. She pushed down her emotions as best as she could. "Why don't you tell me about it."

Henry shook his head. "It is her story. She will tell it to you when she is ready."

"There isn't time for any more secrets," she countered, but Henry wasn't about to budge.

"I'm not betraying anyone else," he told her flatly. "If she wants you to know...she'll tell you herself."

Kris was stung by the comment but didn't push the issue. She turned her head as the door to the apartment was opened and Kelly bustled in; her arms full of files.

"We've got more trouble," she announced as she deposited the material onto the table. "Carl's missing, and whoever went through his apartment was certainly thorough."

Kris looked at the pile of files and was immediately drawn to the photographs that Kelly had picked up. "I'd say it was safe to assume that Falcone has got some idea who Sabrina really is."

Kelly nodded. "And I'm worried what he'll do."

The ring of the telephone shattered the silence that had fallen upon the room. All three of them turned to stare at the phone; knowing who it would be on the other end of the line.

Bosley had set up a speakerphone but was still out collecting the rest of the equipment to record the incoming call. Henry's palms were suddenly slick with sweat, and he felt his heart hammer inside his ribcage. He exchanged glances with Kris and Kelly before making his way over to the phone and slowly lifting the receiver and slotting it gently into place.

"You took your time," the voice on the other end remarked. "Perhaps I have placed too high a value on the bargaining chip I hold."

"She's got nothing to do with this."

"Now we both know that that's not the case."

"If you've hurt her..."

"You'll what?" The man's voice cut across Henry's protest. "You are in no position to be flinging idle threats around. If you need reminding of what I can do..." He left the sentence hanging there; waiting for Henry to apologise.

"I'm sorry." Henry's voice was shaking. "It's just that she's got nothing to do with this."

"She put herself very much in the way of things. Her and those two detectives..." There was a long pause. "Oh yes I know there are more of them at work. In fact I have a message for them both." There was another pause. "I presume they are there with you..."

Kelly exchanged a glance with Kris, uncertain as to what they should do.

"Come now," the voice on the other end of the phone chided them. "Surely you value the woman's life a little."

"Let me speak to her." Kelly broke the silence.

There was a short laugh. "You are in no position to be making demands."

"Without proof that..."

"Please..." he cut straight across Kelly's protest. "You talked your way out of ending up here with me...abandoned your colleague to her fate. You really want me to make her scream out so that you can be reassured that she's really here?"

"That's not what I said..." Kelly tried to protest, but once again her words were cut short.

"That is my offer. You want to hear from her and it's on my terms. Now; do you want to hear her cry out or are you willing to take my word that she is here?"

"We'll take your word," Kelly replied quickly.

"Are you sure?"

Kelly was certain that she could hear amusement in the man's voice and struggled to rein in her own tempter. "Please. Just tell us what it is we have to do."

"That's more like it. There is a debt that needs to be settled... and I'm calling it in."

"What do you want?"

"What's owed. I was promised the manifest from a certain flight."

"I've no idea what happened to that," Henry protested, ignoring Kelly's gestures for him to remain silent.

"Find it. Find it or that tape is released and your reputation is gone. Don't imagine that the swinish multitude are going to react well when they realise that your heroic act was nothing more than a whitewash from the army propaganda machine."

"I don't care what anyone thinks of me."

"But the army will care. You've been their poster boy for the past fifteen years; a hero no less, someone for them all to look up to and aspire to be. Is that why they put some agent in to try and keep the wolf from the door?"

"Agent?" Henry questioned, but was silenced by Kelly. She had the feeling that the man was on nothing more than a fishing trip.

"Don't play dumb with me Sullivan; not after all this time. I want the manifest from that flight or there'll be one more death on your hands."

Henry opened his mouth to protest but the room was suddenly filled by the relentless burr of the dial tone. Kelly was the first to react; pacing across the room and switching off the speaker. "So what do we do?"

Henry ran his fingers across his scalp. "There's nothing we can do. I don't have that sort of money."

Kris said nothing. Kelly watched her friend for a moment and then made her way over to the window; looking towards the freeway and the cars that sped their way along the brightly lit stretch of road. Sabrina was somewhere out there. She had no idea where and nothing but her own stubbornness to keep her believing that she would see her again.

* * *

There was nothing but silence coming from the other side of the heavy wooden door. Falcone waited for a moment to see if Jarek was still working, but there were no cries or protests. It was a courtesy he accorded his staff. Jarek was a professional, and it was little more than bad manners to interrupt a man whilst he was working.

He tapped the pre-arranged code on the door and moments later it was opened. Falcone nodded in acknowledgement as he entered the room. Jarek's skin was glistening, and he had a satisfied smile on his face.

"I continue in the morning?" he questioned; his voice betraying his enthusiasm for his work.

"No," Falcone told him with a smile. "I think we switch our attention for a little while." He raised a hand to prevent any complaints from his subordinate. "Don't worry; you will be kept busy. I need to verify a few details with Mr Douglas here; I'm sure he won't mind the wait."

A smile crept across Jarek's face. "He has been most forthcoming. Offered me a great deal of money. I think he believes I can be bribed."

"Did he mention anything about our other guest?"

"Only that she had the answers, and that it's her I should be paying attention to."

"And I'm sure you liked the sound of that," Falcone replied drily, noting the reaction to his words. "You've made little secret of your intentions. But she is a bargaining chip at this stage; you must kerb your desires."

"Douglas repeated his claim. She is government."

Falcone mulled the matter over. "I get the feeling Douglas would tell you that his own mother was a government agent at this stage if you promised to leave him alone." He waved away the protest. "No matter Mr Lazic. I will have a few words with our Mr Douglas and if he persists with his story you will get your chance to prise the truth from our other guest."

"Very good."

Falcone watched the man leave and then turned his attention to Carl Douglas was lying on his side in a foetal position. His breathing was coming in irregular shallow patterns.

"You heard that Mr Douglas...do not insult my intelligence by lying to me. I do so hate to be insulted."

"I heard," Carl replied finally; his words thick with pain.

"You disappointed me Mr Douglas; I'm sure Jarek has made you well aware of just how much I hate that. I offered you a fair deal for that tape, but you only gave me half of what I requested. You have to pay what you owe."

"She...the other girl...she is nothing...manipulated by the government bitch." Carl spat the words out, biting down on his lip to prevent himself from crying out with pain. He wasn't a brave man; he knew that, had always known it. But if he was going to do one thing right in his life, it was to prevent Falcone and his thug from inflicting pain on Kelly. The more that Jarek worked on him, the harder it became to stick to the story, but he knew that he had to. The Duncan woman was going to be killed anyway...better that she died than her friend.

* * *

Light was slowly starting to filter through the gaps around the door. Dust motes danced around as the sunlight forced its way across the otherwise pitch black floor. Sabrina had been watching the path of the sunlight since the first rays had become visible. The night was over and a new day was beginning. She'd been left alone aside from one brief visit from Jarek. Fear had shot through her system as he'd pushed the canvas bag over her head and dragged her from the room, but it appeared that her captors were not ready to dispose of her yet. The ropes around her wrists had been removed and she'd been left for a short while to eat and clean herself up. The room she'd been deposited in had only one window and the frosted glass had given her no indication of what was beyond it. The bars that criss-crossed the inside of the window frame made escape that way impossible. She had taken a little of the food that had been left but had been too on edge to eat much. The turn of the key in the lock had come all too soon and she'd been returned to her original room. Jarek had said nothing, but there had been something about his demeanour that made her keep silent. She had the suspicion that all he was waiting for was an excuse to inflict injury.

She was brought out of her reverie as she heard the key turn in the lock and her world was flooded with light. She blinked furiously as her eyes struggled to adapt to the sudden change in light levels. The smell of stale tobacco filled the air, mixed with a strong smell of cologne. It had to be Falcone. Sabrina raised one hand to shield her eyes from the light and waited for Falcone's next move.

"Well, well, well," the smart suited man remarked conversationally as he leant up against the wall. "This little story just gets more and more interesting."

He waited for a moment, studying her, looking for a reaction before continuing.

"Less than a week ago I receive a phone call from a concerned individual in Menzies, telling me all about some blond-haired young woman nosing around, asking questions about the crash and generally sticking her nose in where it wasn't wanted. I sent a man to deal with it, and do you know what... she managed to give him the slip, but not before she had a little accident. A little accident that happened to deliver a tape into my possession."

He waited to see if there was going to be any reply but when she remained silent he carried on.

"I ran a check on the rental car...well what was left of it, and it turns out that it was hired by a man called John Bosley who works for a Townsend Detective Agency. A little more digging and a few dollars in the right hands and I find out the name of another woman who works for the same agency." Falcone paused and undid the button on the breast pocket of his shirt. He removed the pack of cigarettes that were stowed there and drew the final cigarette from within. He tapped the end of it on the packet before placing it in his mouth and wadding the empty packet into a ball which he tossed casually into the corner of the room.

Sabrina found that she was watching his every move. She knew that he was doing it on purpose; heightening the sense of fear that was building within her. She watched as he struck a match and lit the end of the cigarette; taking in a slow deep breath.

Finally he returned his attention to her, peering at her through the fug of blue tinged smoke. "What I want to know is why two private detectives are so interested in Henry Sullivan? I want to know why you are involving yourself with them."

Sabrina said nothing, forcing herself to stare straight ahead. She heard Falcone sigh.

"If you want me to have Jarek beat the information from you; it's easily arranged. He's quite the master craftsman." He paused and took another long drag on his cigarette. "Let's try this again... Why are **you** so interested in Sullivan? Why are you always seeming to pop up when someone is looking into Sullivan? First you get in Carl Douglas' way and then these two detectives. What is it that you're after?"

Sabrina looked up at him, realising that she had to tell him something – Falcone meant what he said. "Army was worried about Sullivan, hired me to make sure that his transition into civilian life was as straightforward as possible. They were worried that he was being blackmailed."

Falcone shook his head. "Come now, you're going to have to do better than that." He pushed himself away from the wall and took a final drag on the cigarette, letting it drop to the floor. "Looks as though I'm going to lose out on a little profit. I promised you undamaged." He shrugged his shoulders as he ground the butt of the cigarette into the concrete. "Still, the man I've got in mind owes me money, I'm sure he'll not mind the bruising." He took another pace towards her. "I'll ask again. Why were you hanging around Sullivan? What were you hoping to uncover?"

"The army were worried..." Sabrina repeated but Falcone cut her short.

"Army knows what Sullivan is; they were never going to waste time on a liability like that. I want the truth and you're going to tell it to me." He took another pace towards her. "Sticking your nose into everything that was going on...All I did was warn Sullivan to keep silent; he wouldn't have been stupid enough to try and go against me; Army didn't care about him beyond his usefulness as a poster boy for bravery." He shook his head. "There's something else going on; something you're not yet telling me."

"No."

Falcone faked a look of disappointment. "I don't like being lied to... and I don't make idle threats." He called back over his shoulder. "Jarek. Got a tongue in here that needs a little loosening."

The tall dark-haired man appeared in the doorway. He looked levelly at Sabrina, his dark eyes boring into hers. "How much damage you want? Something permanent?"

"Just a little show of what could happen if the lady is stupid enough to keep lying to me," Falcone told him before turning back to face Sabrina. "You'll like Jarek; he's a man who enjoys his work. A true professional." He paused. "He tells me that you've already experienced a little of what he can do." He watched the way that she stiffened in fear.

"This time it's different," Jarek told her; a slight smile forming on his face as he took a pace towards her. "This time you are the subject... I promise you my full attention."


	32. Chapter 32

Kris scanned through the information that Kelly had brought back with her from Douglas' apartment. It was in a complete jumble. There were pages of printed information, with hastily scribbled notes in the margin that related to other articles she couldn't locate. She had no way of knowing what was missing, or what Douglas did or didn't believe. She'd been more disturbed however by the material she'd found that related to Sabrina... Douglas had convinced himself that she was working for some government agency. He'd even had someone follow her. She wondered just how much was missing from the file; just how much of Douglas' twisted view of the truth Falcone was now looking at. She tried and failed to read the note that he'd scribbled in pencil on the bottom of one of the pages. She gave up on it and put the page to one side. Below it in the stack was another of his candid photos taken from the front seat of his car. Sabrina was lifting what looked like groceries from her car and Henry was looking on less than amused.

She wondered, not for the first time, just where her friend was now. They had nothing to go on, other than the fact that she'd disappeared from outside of Henry's apartment. If her abductors had headed onto the I-40 or the 15 then they could be in any one of a hundred small towns. They could search for weeks and come no closer to knowing where she was.

She let he head drop. There just wasn't the time to search through everything. Sabrina's life was in danger, and if Kelly's fears were correct, Carl Douglas had already revealed who he thought she was.

"This is hopeless," she admitted finally.

"We have to keep looking." Kelly tried to encourage her friend not to lose heart.

"I don't even know what I'm looking for," Kris dropped a file back down on the pile in front of her.

Kelly glanced at Kris and noted the dejected look on her face. Neither of them had slept well the previous night; calling it a day had felt like giving up, but they'd had to concede that Bosley was right when he told them that they would be no use to Sabrina without rest. Both had risen early and made straight for Henry's place, only to be met by a tired looking Bosley. He'd clearly not followed his own advice, but had not made much in the way of progress.

Kelly sat back on her heels and rubbed at her tired eyes. "We have to be missing something here. I understand Falcone wanting to keep Sullivan quiet. Sullivan says one word and that's the end of Falcone's empire...but Carl?"

"Douglas was making a lot of noise in Menzies; maybe Falcone was worried about what he'd unearthed."

Kelly thought about it for a moment. "Carl told me that I was part of the price he was paying for the tape." She tried and failed to stop the shiver that worked its way down her spine. She'd been so close to suffering the same fate as her friend. It was a thought that she tried to push from her mind.

"So Falcone was using to Douglas to try and smoke us out. He gives Douglas the one thing he's always wanted and gets us out of the way in return."

"There was nothing on that tape that would incriminate Falcone," Kelly ran back over the flight deck conversation that she'd heard in Carl's apartment. "If Carl sold his story then it would discredit Sullivan and, as a matter of course, taint everything that he said." She took a breath. "But Carl doesn't sell me out and as a result..."

"He pays for what's happened to Sabrina." Kris' tone was sharp and brought Kelly up short. She'd allowed herself to forget Carl's role in her friend's abduction. She raised her head and smiled apologetically at Kris.

"Sorry. I guess I just can't accept that he did that..." she lapsed into silence. She'd liked the man; she really had and it was hard to come to terms with the fact that he was responsible for Sabrina's disappearance.

The conversation ended there as the door to the room opened and Henry entered. He looked as though he'd slept little; his face set in a frown. "You ladies come up with anything?"

"Kelly shook her head. "We know that Douglas must have come across something that interested Falcone...but what that was..."

Henry muttered something beneath his breath and crossed the room, settling down into his usual chair. "Whatever it was; it wasn't the manifest from that flight. I don't know why Falcone still thinks that I know what happened to it. It was the last thing on my mind that night."

"Is it possible that someone did make off with it?" Kris cautiously broached the subject.

Henry shrugged. "Anything's possible, but everyone I know was caught up in trying to save lives at the base. No-one thought of getting the stuff to Gerry."

"Gerry?" Kris queried. "Gerry, as in Gerry Cochran who runs Hogan's?"

"Runs it now, does he?" Henry noted. "Aye, I mean Gerry Cochran. He was always Falcone's bagman."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. Gerry was Falcone's mouthpiece in town. He took the money for Falcone and took care of the law as well. Hogan's hosted many an out of hours game."

Kris struggled to take in what Henry was saying. Gerry had been so welcoming, so open and friendly, that she didn't want to believe that he'd possibly been involved in anything underhand.

"You think that he still works for Falcone?" She asked the question, not wanting to know the answer.

Henry nodded. "Once Falcone gets his hooks into you there's only one way you really get to escape, and as Gerry's still breathing I'd say it was highly probable he's still on the payroll."

"So he could have set the dogs on me in Menzies," she mused, thinking back to her time in the small town. Gerry had been there when she'd come to talk to Bob Matthews about the tape; he'd shown interest in her conversation about the crash. She didn't want to think that he might have been responsible in part for her crash and for Mathews' death, but it was something that she could no longer ignore.

"I'll call Charlie, see if he can find out anything more about Gerry." Kris let her train of thought run on. "What if Carl found out about the manifest. Could he have been working with Gerry?"

Kelly shook her head. "I don't think so. From what he told me and from what I've read here Carl thought of the crash as some sort of effort to get rid of Senator Ward. That's where his focus was. He didn't know anything about Falcone's involvement."

"So that's why he zeroed in on the idea that Sabrina was working for some sort of government agency?"

"Yep. Thought that they were trying to keep him quiet."

"So we know nothing," Henry snapped, breaking into the conversation. "Over twenty four hours and we know nothing!"

"We know that she's still alive," Kelly argued, but Henry cut her short.

"We only have Falcone's word for that, and I'm not in a trusting mood." He shifted his weight in his chair. "He'll not have wasted this day in the way that we have. We need to make a deal with him when he calls, or Sabrina's..." he tailed off, not wanting to complete the thought.

It was a fact that they were all trying to block out. The longer that things went on without word from Falcone; the less likely it was that the outcome would be a favourable one. If they didn't broker a deal with him, he would simply find another way of attacking Henry and Sabrina's life would be forfeit. They had nothing to go to the authorities with...Falcone's prints were on nothing. They could do nothing but wait for him to make the next move.

* * *

Falcone swung his car into the parking lot; gravel spraying out from beneath the wheels as he crossed the uneven surface to his usual parking spot. Although it was early evening, the temperature was still hovering around the 70's and was more than a little oppressive. He wound up the window and climbed out from behind the wheel, not bothering to lock the vehicle. There were very few people who were stupid enough to consider stealing from him. He pulled his sunglasses down from the top of his head to take the glare out of the view in front of him.

He'd found the building a year ago and it had turned out to be a rewarding find. It was off the beaten track and no-one had heard a thing as he'd subtly reworked the layout. It was a perfect place in which to deal with those who dared to cross him. A plain single storey dwelling, it didn't attract attention from anyone who happened to be passing, and the nearest neighbour was a good few miles away. The oppressive heat of the desert gave little hope to anyone without transportation of their own; when someone did manage to give one of his men the slip they were either swiftly recaptured, or the desert took care of them.

Falcone frowned as he thought of the work that awaited him. Jarek had phoned early in the afternoon; telling him that he'd completed the task that he'd been set. The man was good at his job; there was no denying that, but there were times when he seemed to enjoy it a little too much. Pain was an easy way of controlling most people and Falcone didn't have a problem with it, but to him it was nothing but a means to an end; there was little pleasure to be gained from it, it was just business. Jarek, well Jarek made no secret of how much he enjoyed what he did for a living. Although he'd been a reliable employee, Falcone was beginning to think that perhaps it was time to let the man go...before he drew attention to his operation. There was the matter of Sullivan to settle first, and he had the feeling that Jarek had one last part to play.

* * *

Jarek met him at the door; his face flushed with perspiration. It was apparent that he'd made an early start on Douglas. He enquired after the other individual he'd tasked Jarek to deal with and clicked his tongue impatiently against his teeth as he received his answer.

He made his way along the corridor and down to the room where she was shut in. He pulled back the bolts and twisted the key in the lock. He left the light off. Enough natural light would spill into the room, and he found that shadows had their part to play.

Pushing open the door he immediately scanned the room, just in case Jarek had lied about the state that he'd left her in. However it only took a matter of moments for his eyes to settle upon her and realise that Jarek had done exactly as instructed. She was sitting in the far corner of the room, back against the wall; her arms wrapped protectively around herself. He'd noted the way that she'd tensed as he stepped into the room. She may not have said much to Jarek yet, but it wouldn't take much more pressure before she started speaking.

He left the door open behind him and he saw her eyes flick towards it, either weighing up the option of escape, or fearing who might be behind him. He allowed himself a smile.

"You wouldn't get out of the room, let alone the building," he advised her and watched as her eyes refocused on him. "Jarek tells me that you've been less than co-operative. I do find that ... disappointing."

He waited whilst she closed her eyes and swallowed painfully. "There's nothing to tell."

Falcone's smile was humourless. "Come on Ms Duncan. Don't play me for a fool. I just want to know a few simple answers and things will go easy for you."

"Henry doesn't have whatever it is that you want."

"Really?" There was genuine surprise in Falcone's voice. "And just what is it that you think I want?"

He waited whilst she leant her head back against the wall, drawing in a breath as her body protested against the pain. "Henry told me about the crash... about what really happened."

"Then you know more than me." Falcone watched her reaction. "If you think I was involved in that in any way you are very much mistaken. That was all Sullivan's idea."

"And I'm sure the threats from you didn't come into it at all."

"No-one ever forced him to play cards Ms Duncan. No-one forced him to bet."

"I don't know how you sleep at night with what you do to people."

"I'm an honest businessman. I make the rules and guidelines clear – right from the start. But you..." he shook his head. "Quite what you've been doing nosing around in Sullivan's affairs is another matter. If you think you can get anything on me you are very much mistaken."

He moved to stand in front of her. "If you think that Sullivan is going to come to the rescue, you've seriously misjudged the man. I warned him what would happen if he didn't pay up; I warned him what I'd do to you if he didn't send you away." He smiled inwardly as he caught the look that crossed her face. "Oh yes...your 'hero' has sold you out and doesn't look to be making any effort to get you back."

He frowned and knelt down in front of her. Reaching out, he placed a hand beneath her chin and forced her head up to look at him. He tutted as he took in the bruising that was starting to show on her face. He ran his thumb non-too-gently over the vivid purple bruise that was forming beneath her left eye. Despite herself, she flinched and murmured with pain.

"You don't have to stay here though," Falcone told her conversationally. "All you have to do is tell me what you're doing hanging around Sullivan and all this will end. Tell me who's paying the bill and I can make all this go away."

Sabrina said nothing; staring up at Falcone with barely disguised hatred.

Falcone clicked his tongue against his teeth. "There is one very simple way of solving this, but that devalues your resale value." He shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps a little show and tell will help."

He straightened up. "Get up."

When she made no effort to move, he simply sighed. "You've seen a little example of what Jarek can do. If you want to play the martyr I can call him in again and he can pick up from where he left off. When you're barely able to cling onto consciousness and the only thing in the world that you're aware of is pain, then I'll come back and we can have this conversation again. The other option is that you get to your feet now." He took a pace back. "The choice is yours. I know Jarek is keen to work with you some more."

He smiled with satisfaction as she started to struggle to her feet and reached down to help her up. He wrapped a hand around her arm and pulled her savagely to her feet.

"Jarek will be disappointed that you don't wish to continue your relationship," he told her as he propelled her out of the room. "He seems quite taken with you."

Falcone dragged her down the corridor, pulling her along as though she was little more than a rag doll, only slowing his pace when he reached the door at the end. He hauled her in front of him and then placed a hand between her shoulder blades pushing her over the threshold. Before she had time to steady herself he moved in close behind her; wrapping an arm tightly around her waist and gripping her chin with his free hand, forcing her to look at the man who was lying in a bloody heap on the floor.

"He's not dead yet," Falcone whispered into her ear. "But pretty soon he'll wish he was." He felt Sabrina try to turn her head away and in response tightened his grip on her. "Jarek is doing a thorough job. If he gets it right, he'll break almost every bone before he lets him die. I wasn't lying when I said the man was a professional. He's done this for a living back in his homeland. Came here because it paid better. Men, women, children... it's all the same to Jarek." He paused, waiting for a reaction. Fear always betrayed itself in the end. He waited for her to try and push away from him before he pulled her back close again. "Douglas here sold you to me, but he didn't read the small print. He left a trail. Tried to get away with only paying me half of what he promised, now we're going to return him as an object lesson."

"No..." the word escaped from her mouth.

"When Jarek's finished with Douglas... you'll be next."

Without warning, Falcone turned and dragged Sabrina across the room. Moments later she was pushed into a pitch black storage room and the door slammed shut behind her.

"You can listen to Jarek finish the job," he called through the metal grille. "And then you'll know exactly what's in store for you."


	33. Chapter 33

In Henry's apartment all four occupants jumped as the ringing phone shattered the silence. Missy picked up on the tension in the air, and added her own voice to the noise. Henry tried to shush her as Kelly rose stiffly from her chair and made her way over to the table where the speaker and tape recorder had been set up. She put the tape into record and then answered the phone.

Satisfied that the phone was hooked up to the speaker, Kelly stepped away from the desk. "We're all here."

Falcone didn't bother to acknowledge Kelly, but simply got straight to the matter in hand.

"Before we begin I want to make it clear that if you involve the police, or any outside agency in any way then your little friend will be the one to pay the price. Her continued survival is very much in your hands. You make one move that I don't like the look of and her life is forfeit...do you understand me?"

"I understand," Kelly confirmed. "We haven't spoken to anyone."

"Very wise. You will soon see evidence of what happens to those who don't follow instructions." Falcone paused. "You have news about the manifest?"

"I told you before," Henry spoke up before the others could stop him. "I don't know what happened to it."

"Henry, Henry. You know first hand what happens to people who don't pay their debts. I give you your only warning now. I want what's owed to me."

"We'll sort something out," Kelly answered before Henry could say anything further.

"You only have yourselves to blame for this current situation," Falcone told them. "If Henry had heeded the warnings and promised to keep his mouth shut, then none of this need have happened."

"I didn't know it was you," Henry protested.

"I told you what would happen if you were to breath a word about that night," Falcone reminded him. "I see the reports of your intention to speak and what did you expect me to do...you had chances Henry, plenty of them."

"Sabrina is not any part of this," Henry protested; earning himself another glare from Kelly.

"She is now," Falcone replied smoothly. "I meant what I said. One word reaches me about you contacting outside help and she is dead and someone else will take her place. Just how many deaths do you think your conscience can cope with Henry?"

"I'm not going..." Henry began but Kelly cut him short.

"No-one is going to the police. No-one is going to do anything. We need time to get the sort of money you're talking about."

"Time is the one thing you don't have. I will call back first thing in the morning and you better tell me that you are ready to pay."

The room was filled with the sound of the dial tone.

Henry rounded on Kelly. "Why cut me short. I was going to tell him that I'm no longer a threat. I'm not going to speak to the press."

"You tell Falcone that he's getting at least part of what he was after in the first place and why does he need to keep Sabrina alive? I don't want to give him anything without him giving us something in return."

Henry let out a long breath. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

Kris turned the tape machine off. "You think that he can follow everything that we do?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Henry admitted. "He's got a network of informants; it's no stretch to imagine that there are some in the local law."

"So what do we do?"

"I tell you what I do," Bosley announced, rising to his feet. "I call Charlie and see if he can't raise some money for us. We don't offer that 'man' something and I don't want to dwell on the consequences."

* * *

Falcone held the spool of tape in his hands. Its contents would ruin Henry Sullivan and reveal the lies that the army had been complicit in covering up. The crash had never been a complete accident and the army must have always known that. He weighed the thought up. If the army were concerned with keeping the matter a secret then it would make sense to stick someone on him, and that was where his current guest came in. She wasn't saying as much but it was the only thing that made sense to him.

Douglas had been a thorn in her side and she'd tried to keep him from getting too close. Falcone ran back over the things that Jarek had told him about Douglas. The man had offered up information before Jarek had even gotten to work, and had begged to be allowed to tell everything in return for his life, but a message was a message and Douglas needed to be made an example of.

He placed the tape down on the table and summoned Jarek.

The man appeared a minute later; a smile spreading across his features. "I have more work?"

"Soon," Falcone promised him. "Soon. First there is the message that needs delivering. Take Douglas out and make sure you leave him where he can be found."

Falcone saw the scowl that passed across Jarek's face. "Your enthusiasm for your work does you credit Jarek, but do not forget that I call the shots."

Jarek nodded his head but said nothing.

"You will have your chance," Falcone assured him. "Let her wait a little longer, that is all I'm asking. I'm sure she won't mind the delay."

* * *

Sabrina swallowed and wished that she had some way of slaking her thirst. At some point in the last few hours one day had given way to the next, but she was not aware of the true passage of time. Her world was in almost perpetual darkness. She had fallen into a fitful sleep at one point, but her eyes still burned with tiredness, indicating that the sleep had been anything but restful. She had heard the screaming from Douglas; his pained voice chilling her to the bone, but it had been the absolute silence that followed that had scared her more than anything else. She had waited fearfully for the door to open and her own hell to begin, but there had been nothing, no footsteps at the door, no sound of any kind. Her nerves were strung out and she wasn't sure just how much of it she could take.

* * *

Kelly's patience was beginning to fray. They'd teased the information out of Henry regarding the letters and the phone calls that he'd received, but he had remained vague when it came to precise details. She could tell that he was trying to remember, but the details just weren't there.

Bosley was out trying to get information on Falcone from Charlie's contacts, but she knew full well that they were just digging in the dark. Falcone had worked hard to cover his tracks and however frustrating it might be, all they could do was wait for the call to come. The hours were ticking by at a frustrating pace. As each one passed she felt Sabrina's loss more keenly and had to deal with the unpleasant thought that they were running out of time. She tried to push her fears to one side and get back to dealing with the current line of questioning.

"We need to try and look at this from another angle. If we can't get to Falcone directly is there anyone else who could link us to him...besides Gerry Cochran that else knows about what happened that night?"

Henry flinched at the question. "What do you mean?"

"You were feted for your actions that night. The army..."

"The army doesn't know," Henry cut across the suggestion. "They knew about the debt I was in, and the trouble I'd had before signing up, but we kept every detail of the plan from them."

Kelly thought back to something Carl had said. "The crash investigation cleared you of any blame and someone did enough to hide the evidence of the faulty gauge."

"It would have been more than a little embarrassing for them to have to admit that someone viewed as a national hero was in fact to blame for the crash," Kris spoke up as she worked through her thoughts. "Whether you accept it or not, someone's been covering up what happened."

"Well that someone wasn't known to me."

"The army looked after you though...made sure that you kept out of trouble."

"What are you getting at?"

Kris placed her hands flat on the table. "Someone must have spoken to you about what happened. Something this big doesn't just get swept under the carpet."

"No-one ever spoke to me about it." Henry was adamant.

Kris realised that that particular line of questioning wasn't going to get her anywhere. She tried a slightly different tack. "Who else knew about the plan?"

Henry said nothing for a few moments; deciding what to say.

"Isn't it possible that one of them is trying to stir up trouble? One of them going to Falcone because they know what he can do?"

Henry remained silent and Kris pushed further. "What about your regular pilot...who reported as unfit to fly?"

Henry immediately shook his head. "Danny didn't want any part of it. He got cold feet and went and got himself drunk so that he couldn't fly."

Kris waited for a moment before asking the next question. "You ever blame him for not flying that night?"

Henry turned on her, his expression one of anger. "What kind of damn question is that?"

"Your replacement pilot Wood wasn't experienced," Kelly explained quietly, backing up her friend. "He'd only flown a handful of operations, none of them in the sort of conditions that were present that night. If Gasperino had flown that night..."

She watched as Henry seemed to sink back into his chair. "Joke on base was that Wood didn't fly at night because he was still afraid of the dark." He wiped a hand across his face. "Poor kid didn't stand a chance."

"You know what happened to Danny Gasperino?" Kelly wanted to stop Henry from dwelling on the death of the young pilot..

"He requested a transfer immediately after the crash. He wanted to get as far away from the base and the incident as possible. I wasn't the only one who felt guilty about what happened that night."

Henry saw the look of confusion that passed across Kelly's face. "Gasperino could have landed that plane with his eyes closed. Best damn pilot on the base."

"And you've had no contact with him since?"

"I'm the last person in the world he'd want to talk to." He took a steadying breath. "When we met he was a straight A career pilot; looking at a bright future a world away from the kind of mule runs the rest of us worked on. He let me talk him into coming to a poker game one night. That was all it took; that one night. Damn he was the worst player I'd ever seen but I didn't stop him from playing. Whilst he was keeping Falcone occupied, it kept him away from me..." He looked across at the dispassionate expression on Kelly's face. "You don't know what it is to be an addict. Until you've been there you're in no position to judge."

Kelly turned away and headed out of the room, not trusting herself to say anything.

"Until you've been there, you don't know what it's like," Henry's voice reached out. "I'm not proud of who I was, but I'm not about to lie about it."

A tense silence fell upon the room and Kris tried to busy herself by scanning through the information that Bosley had left for Sabrina about Gasperino, trying not to make the situation any more awkward than it already was. "Looks as though the guy has had problems," she noted. "He's been in and out of institutions and clinics for the past fifteen years."

"Damn fool wasn't responsible for the crash, but still couldn't shake the guilt from his shoulders." He glanced at Kris. "He's spent the past fifteen years being haunted by the fact that he turned up too drunk to fly; blames himself for what happened. After that night he just crawled into the bottle and never came back." Henry stared down at his hands. "Sabrina was wanting to know where my money was going. I was putting my house in order and trying to make amends. There's not much that money can do for a man dying of liver disease, but I had to do something."

"You know where Gasperino is?"

"I've always known. Gladys Murrison at the flower shop in Menzies used to look out for him when he'd go on one of his benders. She used to let him sleep it off at the back of her shop. He could never bring himself to move too far away from the boys that died that day."

Kris chewed her lip. She wanted to ask Henry why he'd not said all this sooner, but she managed to keep a lid on her impatience. "There were fresh flowers at the memorial. You think that might be Danny?"

"I reckon so. He never could bring himself to leave the boys behind."

Kris wanted to yell at Henry. He'd had this knowledge all the time but hadn't told them anything. She thought back to her time in Menzies. "The person who left the tape in my car..."

"He'd have wanted that tape," Henry acknowledged. "He'd have wanted to know what took that plane down. Would make sense that he got hold of a copy somehow."

She looked down at the young man who was pictured in the file. He'd had a bright future in front of him but nothing had come of it. It felt as though this case had ruined the lives of everyone that it touched. She closed the file and took in the tired expression on Henry's face. The questioning was taking more out of him than he was letting on. She'd almost allowed herself to forget that he was ill himself; that he only had a matter of months left.

The silence was broken by the return of Bosley. He entered the apartment without a greeting, a worried expression on his face. He ignored Missy who demanded her usual greeting from a visitor, and made his way directly into the living room.

"I had Charlie keep an eye on all hospital admissions," he began, noting immediately the way that Kris paled. "And something has come up. It isn't Sabrina, but it does give me cause for concern."

"Come on Bos," Kelly could see the distress in her colleagues' face but she needed him to tell her exactly what his news was before her imagination filled in the blanks for her.

"You were right to be concerned about Carl Douglas, Kelly. He's just showed up at Community Hospital in a bad way. He's gone straight into intensive care as the doctors try and establish just how many bones are broken."

"What?" Of all the things she'd been expecting Bosley to say, that was nowhere on the list.

"Someone did a very serious and highly professional number on him," Bosley explained. "Hospital staff don't want to commit themselves at the moment, but the doctor I spoke to told me 'off the record' that he thinks the breaks were not as the result of an accident. He believes that they were deliberate and methodical."

The colour drained from Kelly's face. "He gonna make it?"

"Too early to tell I'm afraid, but the doctors didn't sound too hopeful."

Kelly let out a long breath. "I've got a bad feeling about this. The guy who showed up in our apartment, the one who came looking for the tape. He ... he..." She tailed off, not wanting to complete the thought.

"Falcone won't touch her whilst she's still useful to him," Henry tried to reassure her, but Kelly shook her head.

"We can't rely on that, not if this ...thug we saw is working for him." She shivered at the memory. "You should have seen the mess he made of her wrists." She caught the look that passed across his face. "Oh yes, that was him. Those knots he tied...designed to cause damage."

"Bos. Can we get a search and see if there's anyone out there whose MO includes the sorts of injuries that Douglas has just received?" Kris cut into the conversation, not wanting to let Kelly get too caught up in worrying about Sabrina. "Kell, you said yourself that Douglas had trodden on more than a few toes in his work. Isn't it possible that this is just a coincidence?"

"Douglas had devoted the last twelve months to looking at nothing but this case. There's no way that this is unrelated."

"I'll get that search started," Bosley told Kris. And Kelly, Kris is right. Let's not jump to any conclusions."

Kelly looked as though she was about to argue but then simply nodded her head. Her mind was in freefall... Carl whatever he might have done did not deserve to have that happen to him. She immediately felt guilty; he had been responsible for Sabrina's disappearance and so did not deserve her compassion, but she remembered the man who had bought her dinner and made her laugh with his well observed jokes and found it hard to distance herself from him. She paled as a thought struck her. "Falcone told us that we'd see evidence of what happened to people who didn't follow instructions. I think we've just received that message."


	34. Chapter 34

Falcone tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk. If there was one thing he couldn't stand it was being made to wait. Sullivan and his entourage had to have reached their decision by now. He'd had the place watched but there had been precious little sign of movement from the apartment. It had started with just ensuring Sullivan's silence but it had developed into something bigger. It was time to end the campaign; to bring events to a close and to walk away. He just needed Sullivan; the others could point and accuse, but the mud wouldn't stick.

He picked up the phone receiver and summoned Jarek.

"We make the final call," he announced. He watched the frown that crossed Jarek's face. "Do not worry...you will have your chance. Bring her to the interview room."

* * *

Sabrina automatically shrank back against the wall as the door to the room was flung open and light cascaded into the dark space. Jarek stood framed in the doorway. He looked down at her and smiled. "Today we have a little more fun. Your friends...they cause problems. I speak to Mr Falcone. He tells me that you are too difficult to sell." He shrugged his shoulders. "I tell him that that makes you my property. I think he agrees."

She struggled for something to say, but her parched throat refused to help her.

"Before I can begin, there is still business that needs to be attended to." He strode in her direction. "Your friends... it appears that they do not care. We need to let them know that we are serious."

He waited for her to move. "Come. Mr Falcone is not a patient man."

She gasped as she tried to shift her weight. Jarek had been at great pains to let her know that he was just toying with her, but the burning pain in her rib cage told another story. She'd fractured her ribs falling from a horse when she was younger, and the feeling had been the same; a constant radiating pain whenever she tried to move. She bit down on her lip, trying not to think of what would follow. She had heard Douglas scream; the sound had filled her head and she couldn't shut it out. That was to be her fate if Jarek had his way. She tried to push the thought away, but it just wouldn't shift and she clenched her fists as she remembered his hands gently caressing her ribs before striking the blow. The memory made her nauseous and she had to fight to keep from retching.

"I am in your head...yes?"

She didn't need to look at him to know that he had a smile on his face. Bastard was getting his kicks out of the psychological fear as much as anything else. She closed her eyes, determined to regain self-control.

"You can dream about me later," he told her, a shadow falling across her as he leant in and gripped her arms. "Now...now you come and perhaps there is a little more pain."

She flinched as he tightened his grip. "The amount is down to you. In the long run you'll have to work with me."

Sabrina's suspicions ratcheted up a notch when Jarek led her out of the room without bothering to cover her eyes in any way. Up until now every movement had been the same. Her head had been covered and she'd been dragged blindly along to her destination. The change in routine meant something. Her mind was coming up with reasons that she didn't want to dwell on. Perhaps they reasoned that there was no point in hiding her location from her any more...perhaps this was it...why bother to keep her surroundings from her if they were confident that she'd never be able to tell anyone about them?

She tried to push down the thoughts as they crowded into her mind, but what little hope she'd been clinging onto was fast fading. She staggered and swore as her ribs protested as Jarek came to an abrupt halt in front of a plain wooden door. The whole place seemed to be nothing but a series of narrow corridors with small rooms feeding off on either side. It seemed to be some sort of office complex but it had obviously been remodelled in recent years. The observation struck her as absurd; she was potentially facing her own mortality and she was taking note of the décor. Distraction was a powerful ally, and that was one thing she needed at the present time.

Jarek opened the door and pushed her over the threshold.

Falcone was seated on one side of a table; a phone the only thing placed on it. He nodded in greeting as she entered and indicated that she should take a seat on the opposite side. The gesture was an empty one as she had no choice in the matter. Jarek pushed her down onto the chair and clamped his hands down on her shoulders.

"Excuse the slight change of plans," Falcone apologised. "It seems that your friends require a little convincing as to my intentions." He turned his attention back to Jarek. "This won't take long Mr Lazic, and once formalities are over you may continue with your work. I'm sure your subject won't mind the delay."

Sabrina tried to keep a lid on her fear, but the shallow breathing gave her away. She kept her eyes fixed on Falcone, but he didn't acknowledge her. He lifted the receiver and punched in a series of numbers. "I do so hate making business calls this early in the day," he said drily. "But sometimes there's only one way of getting through to people."

He tapped his fingers impatiently on the table as he waited for the call to be answered.

* * *

The last few hours had been tortuous. There had been nothing they could do but wait. Bosley had tried to get more details regarding Carl Douglas from the hospital, but no information had been forthcoming. He was in intensive care and was expected to remain there for some time; there was nothing else said... no word on if he was conscious or not. The fear was eating away at Kris; Sabrina was with the men who had done this and her, Kelly and Bos were the only things standing between Sabrina and the same fate...only they had no way of getting together the demands that Falcone had made. The manifest from the plane was long gone and, without involving the authorities, there was little chance that they could gather the money together. Bosley was going to talk to Charlie, but she doubted that even their boss could come up with the sort of money that Sullivan owed.

She wanted to be angry with Sullivan; wanted to blame him for all that had befallen her friend, but as she looked at him all she saw was a dying man. He had organised a heist that had cost the lives of his colleagues and he'd had to live with that guilt for fifteen years. It had taken its toll on him, and in some respects had been worse than a prison sentence. She wondered just how much the good general had known about what Sullivan had really been up to back before the army had decided to make him a hero.

She jumped as the ringing phone shattered the silence in the room. She looked at it mutely...not wanting to answer it, as if somehow ignoring it would make their present predicament go away. She sat there and watched as Kelly crossed the apartment and picked up the receiver.

"You have the money?" Falcone wasted no time with pleasantries and cut straight to the chase.

"We have done our best, but you..." Kelly attempted to tell him but was cut short.

"I made my position very clear."

"It's a lot of money."

"Perhaps there is something else I can take as payment. Something else to ensure that word never gets out to the world at large."

Henry realised immediately what it was that Falcone was getting at. "Name the place."

The four occupants of the room exchanged glances. Henry opened his mouth to speak again, but Kris placed one of her hands over his, indicating that he should remain silent.

"We can't do that," she spoke up.

"Oh but you can," the voice on the other end of the line purred. "I entreat you to reconsider your answer."

Henry shook Kris' hand away. "Just say where and when," he growled, ignoring the protests from Kris and Kelly.

"I'm glad to see that one of you has sense."

"I need a guarantee that Sabrina will be there," Kelly cut in.

"You doubt my word?"

"You have to ask?"

"I don't think I care for your tone Ms Garrett ... oh yes I know who you are. I believe you will have had word by now of Mr Douglas. If you want your colleague to avoid the same fate then you will do exactly as I say."

Kelly fell silent, not trusting herself to say anything.

"Where and when?" Henry's voice cut across the silence.

"Ludlow. There's an old cafe. Be there tomorrow at noon. Anyone comes with you and your friend will die."

"We'll be on our own."

"And yet I don't think that you take me seriously."

"We do..." Kelly tried to call but her words fell upon deaf ears.

"I think you need a little convincing..."

Kelly exchanged a nervous glance with Kris. The sound on the other end of the line was muffled as though Falcone had placed his hand over the receiver. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sounds that she could hear. There were words exchanged but she couldn't make out what was being said. Moments later the sound levels returned to normal.

"Seems your little friend doesn't want to say anything. Seems she needs a little persuading." There was a pause. "I guess it's lucky that I have a man who's very good when it comes to the art of persuasion."

"You don't need to prove anything to us," Kelly tried again to stop what was happening. "We will be there, at the time you've specified. No tricks."

There was no response from Falcone, but Kelly made out Sabrina's voice in the background as she protested about something. There was a dull thudding noise and the protests immediately stopped.

"Sabrina?" Fear welled up inside Kelly. She took a pace towards the phone.

"A little message, just for you, from your friend." Falcone's voice broke through the silence. "Listen up."

As long as she lived, Kelly knew that she'd never forget the sound or the scream that followed.


	35. Chapter 35

**_Sorry LK...I did have to end it there :) Thank you to my two patient reviewers...I owe you._**

* * *

Ludlow sat in the shadow of the I-40. Once it had been a thriving small town with a freeway on its doorstep bringing in regular passing trade, but the building of the interstate had taken the traffic up and away from its roads, sounding the death knell for the bustling community. One by one businesses had left the area, looking for a location where the traffic would pass that bit closer, until the town was unable to sustain itself any longer and was left to fall empty and silent.

Kris nosed her car down a heavily rutted road in the direction of an abandoned row of buildings. There was no idle chatter between the two occupants of the car. Nothing had been said for the majority of the journey. They were here for one reason and one reason only. It was a subject that neither of them were keen to discuss. There were a number of possible outcomes from the trip; one of them they just didn't want to think about.

Kris killed the engine and climbed from the car, looking around her. There was a scattering of abandoned buildings in various states of repair. Rusting metal lay scattered on the baked ground and the sunlight reflected from the shards of broken glass that were liberally scattered around. She took in a breath. The heat was oppressive; the temperature had rocketed up making it feel more like the middle of summer than the start of May.

She recalled a trip to a ghost town from her school days. The place had been alive with the sound of her school friends; all of them chattering excitedly and being called into line by the teacher in charge. This place... the atmosphere was altogether different. It was silent, not even the sound of birds breaking the stillness in the air. She glanced across at Kelly as her friend slammed shut the car door.

"You really think Falcone will show?"

Kelly shrugged her shoulders. "We have to believe that he will."

Kris glanced at the row of dilapidated stone buildings that stood in front of them. "This all feels a little too set up."

"I know what you mean, but I don't see that we had a choice." She shivered as she recalled the scream she'd heard at the end of the call from Falcone. The scream had come from Sabrina that much she knew. The anxiety she was feeling was eating away at her, and she knew that Kris was just as much on edge. The waiting for this moment had been excruciating. There had been nothing they could do but sit and wait for the appointed time.

She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she glanced around. Her eyes finally settling on the white painted stone building they were after; a battered sign hung at an angle advertising cold drinks and good food. She placed a hand on Kris' arm, not needing to say anything. This was it.

The two women exchanged a glance before heading towards it.

* * *

Bosley pulled his car up behind Kris' and rested his hands on the steering wheel, watching his two colleagues as they made their way towards the appointed rendezvous point.

"So this is it?" Henry spoke so quietly that Bosley barely heard him. He turned to look at the man.

"You don't have to go through with this."

"You know that isn't true," Henry corrected him. "I don't do this and Falcone will kill her." He passed a hand across his forehead, wiping away the perspiration that had formed. "I should go with them."

"No. We let them make contact; make sure that Sabrina is there with them before we do anything. "

"You're very practical," Henry told him.

"I just want to make sure that we give Sabrina every chance of coming out of this alive."

* * *

Kelly took Kris' offered hand and climbed up over the rubble that was piled up in front of the door. She stepped out of the pressing heat into the still cool of the building. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the change in light levels, but a man's voice immediately broke the silence.

"Lose the purses and turn out your pockets," he ordered. "I'm not looking for any surprises here."

Kelly raised her hands as she tried to stare into the gloom. "We're only here for our friend," she assured him, noting the way that her voice echoed around the stone walls. "We're not looking for any trouble."

There was a low laugh. "You girls don't know how to do anything but find trouble," he told them. "Throw the guns over here, and then both of you back away. I don't want either of you thinking that you can play the hero."

The two women reluctantly complied and then followed the instruction to take a further pace back. Falcone stepped out of the shadows; a gun trained on them.

"Now where is Sullivan?"

"Waiting in the car."

Falcone shook his head, feigning disappointment. "You expect me to believe that? You think you can lie to me..."

"He is outside," Kelly cut across Falcone. "We're not lying to you."

"So we take a walk," Falcone told them calmly, his gun levelled at Kelly. "Anything happens and your friend will die."

"Where is she, where's Sabrina?"

Falcone allowed a smile to spread across his face. "Oh no, no details...not until we trade. A life for a life...that's fair, wouldn't you say?"

"Where is she?"

Falcone wagged his finger at Kelly. "I thought I had just told you... no details, not until I'm certain that you're on the level."

Kris folded her arms and took a pace closer to her friend. "No trade. If we don't see Sabrina then you don't get to see Sullivan."

Falcone smiled an easy smile. "Your candour does you proud Miss Munroe, but you are not in a position to bargain. I could kill you both here and take what I want." His smile hardened. "Be very careful; the hand you play here could cost you a life."

Kelly glanced across at her friend, hoping that she wouldn't press the issue further; they were, as Falcone had pointed out, not in the best bargaining position.

"Move," he instructed them.

Kelly raised her hands and then backed out of the building, Kris reluctantly following her lead.

"One wrong move and..."

"We get it," Kris snapped; her own fear starting to get the better of her.

"Temper, temper," Falcone warned her. He urged them to hurry up and pushed Kelly in the back when he felt that she was holding them up.

"So he is here." Falcone halted as he glanced down and spotted Henry climb from the car.

"You think we'd lie to you?"

He inclined his head. "Don't think badly of me, but I'll own to being a tad suspicious."

"We've honoured our side of the bargain," Kris reminded him. "Where's Sabrina?"

"She is presently...indisposed. I needed a little guarantee."

"That's not good enough..." Kris protested, but Falcone cut her short.

"Ms Duncan is with an associate of mine. He'll bring her here when I call him."

Kris tilted her head to one side. "Not trusting us Mr Falcone?"

"You've given me no reason to." He glanced around at the abandoned buildings. "I'm pleased to see that you didn't attempt to bring the police with you."

"How long have you been waiting for us?"

"That doesn't matter. I want Sullivan." He gestured to Kelly. "Bring him up here. Your friend stays with me."

Kelly looked for a second as though she was going to argue, but then took a pace away from Falcone and raised her hands to show that she wasn't going to do anything foolish.

"Right move Ms Garrett."

* * *

Jarek drained the last from the can before throwing it out of the car window and onto the verge. He sighed impatiently and glanced again at the time on his watch. Falcone was supposed to call and he was supposed to sit cooling his heels, waiting. He glanced over at the booth and checked again that the phone was sitting neatly in its cradle. He'd called the number through to Falcone and was now waiting for the call to tell him that the trip had been a successful one. He hadn't agreed with his employer's plans but it wasn't for him to question what was going on.

As soon as the call to Sullivan had ended, Falcone had ordered that they get moving. He'd wanted to get to Ludlow early to ensure that no-one could set him up. This was a routine they'd used before, but Jarek had a nagging feeling that it wasn't going to pan out the way that Falcone was expecting. Falcone's usual dealings were with people who had been too stupid to realise that they were over-extending themselves. They were stupid and they were desperate and they didn't stop to think. He had the feeling that they were dealing with an entirely different mind set this time. He'd wanted to warn Falcone to be careful, but he knew how that conversation would play out so he'd played along and done as he was asked.

He'd dragged the semi-conscious girl from the room and placed her once again in the trunk of the car, ready for the drive. She'd tried to pull away from him, but with the state she was in, the gesture had been a futile one. As he'd slammed the lid shut he'd heard her shallow breathing, and seen the way that she was still trembling. Shock was setting in; its one consolation was that it made her easier to deal with.

He'd then followed Falcone as he headed for Ludlow, turning off before the ghost town and heading for the old rail yard. It was a bit of an exaggeration to call it a yard; it was little more than a handful of abandoned shipping containers that had at one point been used to transport freight on the rail line that ran through the area. It was another of Falcone's bolt holes; trains passed by, but no road traffic took the dusty road that led out to the broken down wooden building and rusting twenty foot containers.

She'd drifted in and out of consciousness as he'd opened up one of the containers and dragged her inside. The heat had hit him full in the face and his skin was pricking with perspiration before he'd finished securing her to one of the metal struts at the far end of the metal box. He'd tapped the side of her face, trying to get some reaction, but her eyes remained unfocussed. He'd re-padlocked the container and driven out to the phone booth to await the call. He had his instructions.

He glanced again at the phone. The call was already late. He'd give it a little longer and then it was time to move to the next stage.

* * *

Sabrina moaned and tried to lift her head. It felt as though it were full of cotton wool and she struggled to recall what had been going on before she'd apparently lost consciousness. She had no idea of where she was. She could see nothing but blackness before her eyes. She narrowed them and tried again, but there seemed to be no light source anywhere.

Her head was pounding and perspiration beaded on her skin. Wherever she was it was stifling. The air was uncomfortably warm and stale with no hint of a breeze. There was enough air to breath, but if there was no fresh source, she wondered just how long it would last.

The thought spiked fear and she tried to move; a wave of pain washing over her as she did so. She gasped as she attempted to move her left arm; her brain flooding with messages that told her where the damage was. Her mind catapulted her back to a recent memory. Jarek grabbing her wrist within his hands...she'd tried to claw at him with her right hand but he'd simply backhanded her across the face and then clamped his hands around her left wrist.

She swallowed as she felt the bile rise in her throat and tried to quell the shaking that was running through her body; her ribs now flaring in pain. She breathed shallow quick breaths and tried to bring her emotions back under control; pushing away the memory and trying to think of something else.

Her right arm felt leaden and her wrist throbbed angrily as she tried to move it. She heard the rattle of metal against metal and realised that she'd been handcuffed to something. She bit down on her lip and tried to move her hand, to see if she could work out what it was. The support behind her was metal, and she winced as her fingers brushed against a second metal surface just to her right.

She leant her head back against the metal wall behind her; cradling her left arm against herself; trying to block out the excruciating pain from her wrist. She closed her eyes and waited for the pain to subside. Falcone had tried to set a deal for Sullivan; she was the bargaining chip. Her mind flashed back to the interview room and she felt the fear knot in the pit of her stomach again. She couldn't just wait for Falcone to decide that the time was right to have her killed; she had to do something. She yanked her right arm, hoping she could move whatever she was cuffed to, but her arm snapped back; her right wrist throbbing anew with pain. She tugged again and again ignoring the pain, each move more desperate, each one having the same fruitless result. She felt the tears sting her cheeks as pure anger and frustration got the better of her. She was not going to die here; she was going to find a way out...somehow.


	36. Chapter 36

_**Hey hey Chris; many thanks for the review...I never knew you were out there. It's always great to put a name to a story hit :)**_

_**Without further ado...here's another chapter.**_

* * *

Kelly led Henry up the slope and over the uneven ground towards the spot where Falcone was waiting. She reached out for Henry as he stumbled, and worried immediately about what would happen if he were to injure himself. They still only had Falcone's word that Sabrina was safe. She closed her eyes briefly and tried to clear her head of the unwanted images that her mind threw up; her friend was hurt, that much was obvious, but without details she feared the worst. The memory of the scream flashed through her head again and she stiffened.

"She'll be ok," Henry whispered reassuringly.

She glanced at him and saw only an expression of concern on his face. She'd thought that she was doing a good job of keeping her feelings in check, but Henry had seen right through her.

"I'm sorry," she apologised.

"Don't be. I've hidden from things all my life; it's about time I stood up and took what was coming to me."

She wanted to say something to him, but knew that nothing would make him feel any better.

They climbed the rest of the way in silence; the heat of the day making them both feel uncomfortable.

* * *

Falcone had retreated to the cool shade offered by the white stone building. He was leaning up against the wall; his gun still aimed at Kris who had no such protection from the unrelenting sun. He nodded in greeting as Kelly and Sullivan moved to the designated spot.

"Henry Sullivan..." Falcone rolled the words out slowly. "It's been a long time."

"Not long enough from where I'm standing," Henry puffed as he struggled to regain his breath.

Falcone allowed himself a smile. "Don't forget that you still need something from me," he reminded the man. "Be careful what you say."

Henry gestured towards the two angels. "This has nothing to do with either of them."

"I disagree, they've done nothing but get themselves involved in this, and now they have to deal with the consequences."

"I don't know about you, but I need to sit down...preferably somewhere in the shade."

Falcone appeared to consider the request for a moment before agreeing. "Very well. Follow me."

Falcone led the way into the cafe, but not before telling Kris and Kelly to remain where they were.

Henry followed Falcone into the building; his eyes widening in surprise as he took in the small table and two chairs that were placed in the middle of the otherwise abandoned room.

"You always did like to plan ahead," Henry admitted grudgingly as he lowered himself down onto one of the seats.

Falcone smiled and took his own seat; his gun never wavering from its target.

"Where is it? … and don't play the fool with me Sullivan; you know what I'm talking about."

Sullivan shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what happened to the manifest," he replied softly. "You could say that my priorities changed after the crash. Money suddenly didn't seem all that important."

"I'm not buying that Sullivan, you were a hopeless gambler back then, and that's not something you just lose."

"The manifest wasn't loaded onto the plane that much I know. Ward's advisors were very jumpy about the whole issue."

"You lie."

"What would be the point?"

Falcone shook his head. "I will have what I am owed."

"You'll have nothing."

"I think you are forgetting something. You want another death on your conscience?"

"She's got nothing to do with this."

"Oh but she does now. First she dies and then there's your estranged family. I can kill you a hundred different ways Sullivan. You won't have the army to protect you."

"You are wasting your time Falcone; I have nothing for you."

Falcone shook his head. "You have people running around making sure that no-one can get anywhere near you. You have some government lackey dogging every move that you make. That doesn't come cheap Henry...Why couldn't you have just taken the hint and remained silent? I'd almost forgotten all about the money you owed, but then you had to break your word and kick up a stink... didn't you. You just had to remind me what I'd promise I'd do if you were ever to break your word."

Henry slammed his hand down on the table. The action causing Falcone to flinch; he'd not been expecting such a response from the man.

"I was never planning on saying anything. I was never going to say a word about the flight."

"Don't lie to me Henry; it made the papers. What was that rather trite headline they used?"

"That wasn't what it was about," Henry protested, but Falcone wasn't about to let him continue.

"You owe me Henry and one way or another you will pay."

* * *

The air inside the metal trailer was stifling. The sun was beating down upon the container's surface; heating the metal and the contents within.

Sabrina was struggling to keep her eyes open, her mind drifting away from the situation she was in and telling her only that she was tired and needed to rest. She'd been fighting the feeling for sometime but now she was starting to forget why it had been so important. The thumping pain in her head hadn't ceased and any movement seemed to send a fresh rush of pain through her body. Perhaps it was best to sleep; perhaps it was best to just drift away and forget about the pain for a few moments. Her head nodded forward and she felt as though she didn't have the strength to lift it again. She could feel the perspiration as it trickled down her face. She screwed her eyes up in an attempt to shift it but it just pooled and stung her eyes. It was too much effort to open them again; better to just let sleep take her.

Without warning, the door to the container was thrown open and light poured in through the gap. Sabrina felt her eyes protest, but welcomed the subtle cooling of the air. It was well over 30 degrees outside, but still that felt cooler when compared to the heated stale air she was currently breathing.

Perhaps this was a rescue; perhaps this was the end of the pain.

Any small sense of hope died the moment that she heard Jarek call out to her in greeting; his words making their way through the fog in her mind. She automatically shrank back against the wall; a movement that did not escape him.

"Do not worry," he told her warmly. "This won't be a long visit."

He pulled the container's door so that only a narrow path of light splayed across the floor and then made his way towards her.

"Mr Falcone told me to leave you here. Told me that you were more trouble than you were worth."

The words made little sense...She knew that she feared this man, but she couldn't remember why.

Her brain shifted gears abruptly as her head snapped to one side; a fresh sense of heat flaring across her cheek.

"...listening...You paying me the attention that I deserve?"

She struggled to understand what he was saying. She had to listen. She had to stay conscious.

His fingers brushed against her right wrist and she heard him tut in disapproval. "What is this?" he rubbed his fingers together in front of her face; her blood evident. "You really think that you have the strength to break the cuffs? You are wasting your time...If you want me to break your other wrist you only have to ask."

Her eyes were fixed on his fingers; mesmerised by the sight of her own blood. Was that the reason her right wrist was aching so much? She had thought it was the tightness of the metal band; was it really her own actions that had caused the damage? She was drifting away again, but Jarek reached forward and grabbed her throat, forcing her head back.

"Falcone tells me to leave you here. Tells me that if he doesn't call then I am to leave you here. It is not the easiest of deaths, but you have your friends to thank."

Jarek's words worked their way into her brain and she moistened her lips, trying to come up with a reply. "They are meeting Falcone?" It was little more than a whisper, but she finally managed to force the words out.

"They are."

Sabrina relaxed; a half-smile ghosting across her face.

Jarek shook his head. "You do not understand. They are late. They have not met the conditions that Falcone laid down. Your life is forfeit."

When Sabrina's expression didn't change; suspicion took hold. "What is that pleases you? You are not safe..." He paused and an idea struck him. "They are planning to trap Falcone?"

Sabrina remained silent. Jarek swore impatiently beneath his breath and released his hold on her throat. She tried to pull away in an effort to protect herself but there was little she could do. Jarek grabbed hold of her broken wrist and she screamed. He immediately clamped a hand over her mouth.

"I ask a question and you answer." He looked directly into her eyes as she struggled ineffectually beneath his grip. "You understand me?"

Unable to speak Sabrina nodded her assent.

"That is better. I ask again. They are planning to trap Falcone?"

He removed the hand that was covering her mouth, but kept hold of her wrist, squeezing it gently when she was slow to answer.

Sabrina fought to control her breathing, sucking in a breath as Jarek increased the pressure on her wrist. "Just a guess," she panted, trying to blink away the tears that were now running freely. "It's what I'd do. Falcone can't win."

"What makes you so very sure?"

Sabrina pressed her lips shut; determined to say nothing, but Jarek simply wagged a finger in front of her face. "Must you make everything so hard for yourself? No-one likes a martyr you know." He increased the pressure on her wrist and was rewarded with another scream.

"I can keep this going until you lose consciousness, but then you already know that." He leant a little closer. "Tell me what it is."

Sabrina gave the slightest shake of her head and Jarek sighed. "Very well. Since you are so determined, what say that I make you a little promise. When we are done here I will seek out your friends and I will do to them what I planned to do to you? How does that sound?"

He smiled at the way that she tensed. "I thought that might get your attention. Now...tell me."

Sabrina met his impassive gaze, and knew in that one look that he meant everything that he said. "Falcone will get nothing from Sullivan."

"Oh no?" there was a trace of amusement in Jarek's voice. "I think you underestimate Falcone's powers of persuasion."

"Falcone cannot beat death," Sabrina whispered, her strength beginning to fail again in the heat. "Sullivan is dying. Falcone will get nothing from him." She raised an eyebrow. "If your payment depends on the outcome of that particular deal; I'd be making new plans."

Jarek looked at her for a moment or two, trying to decide if she was lying or not.

"Perhaps it is time I left." Jarek smiled at Sabrina, completely unmoved by her obvious distress. "I came back here because we had unfinished business you and I. I was going to deal with business; a man has his reputation to protect. But in light of your help...perhaps I owe you a small chance at life." He paused. "You remember what I told you at the apartment? Back when you were nothing but collateral?" The smile widened. "Don't think I forget. Our paths cross again and I will kill you. Live through this... and I will find you."

Sabrina looked at him through narrowed eyes. The look of indifference on his face unnerved her. She tried to blank out the pain that was radiating from her wrist. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he'd hurt her.

Jarek released his hold on her wrist and cupped her face with his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears that were still streaming from her eyes.

"You think this hurts? Just wait until our paths cross again. Then I will take the time to teach you about real pain."

She tried to shy away from him, but he'd anticipated her move and held her firm. Saying nothing more he leant forward and placed a kiss on her forehead before releasing her and standing up. He turned to leave and then stopped, as though remembering something.

Pushing one hand into his pocket he removed the small key to the handcuffs. "I think perhaps I should give you this. Don't want you to think that I'd leave you without a fair chance of escape." He looked down at her and then stepped back a pace, judging the distance before dropping the key on the floor.

"There. All you need to do is reach it."

Her eyes followed him as he made his way to the door. He paused on the threshold and turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers for a few moments before he broke the contact and left; the door clanging shut as he departed.

As he finally disappeared from sight, Sabrina leant her head back against the metal wall of the container and tried to regain control of her emotions. Each heaving breath caused fresh waves of pain to radiate through her ribcage. She glanced at the patch of ground where he'd left the key; knowing full well that it was just out of her reach. She pulled angrily on the cuffs that were tight around her right wrist, but there was no chance of the metal support giving.

The key to her freedom was just out of her grasp. Even if she could reach it, there was precious little she could do with the state that her left wrist was in. The cry she let out was borne of pure frustration. There was nothing she could do.

Outside the container, Jarek listened to the cry and allowed himself a smile.


	37. Chapter 37

_**Nearly there now guys...thanks again for your patience with this one.**_

* * *

"It's time the truth was revealed," Henry told Falcone as he glared at him across the battered wooden table. "It's time that I finally stopped being a coward."

"Cross me and it won't be you that suffers," Falcone warned him. "I know where your family lives; I can tell you the routine that your ex-wife follows on any given day of the week. One word from me and that routine can be brought to a premature end."

"No," Henry told him flatly. "No more. This ends today. You can threaten me all you want but I am talking to the police." Henry pushed his chair away from the table and rose to his feet.

"Sit down," Falcone told him tersely, but Henry didn't pay him any heed, instead taking another pace towards the door. "You really are an idiot Sullivan. You want me to shoot you where you stand? Sit down."

"Henry turned on Falcone; his eyes blazing with anger. "I've had just about enough of you Falcone and I refuse to listen to any more of your bullying words. We're done. You hear me? Done."

"She'll die Henry. One more step and she dies."

"I've no proof now that she's still alive. You've got to give me that to make your threat valid. Without proof it's just another of your empty threats. I've had a lifetime of them, and I say that it's time they came to an end." He backed away towards the door. "You want to kill me? Well go ahead. I'm not giving you anything else."

"Sit down Sullivan."

Henry backed away another pace, and reached out for the frame of the door. "We're done Falcone. You either tell me where Sabrina is or I go straight to the police."

Falcone glared at Henry. "You won't go to the police. You breathe one word and I'll tell them exactly what you did. I'll tell them exactly what you've spent the last fifteen years trying to hide. You won't have a friend in the world Sullivan."

Henry spread his arms wide as he backed away into the sunlight. "Tell them," he replied flatly. "I no longer care. I'll tell the police that the plan was all your idea and that I only went along with it because I was scared of what you'd do."

Falcone laughed as he rose from his chair and began following Henry. "My attorney will tear you apart on the stand."

"I'll be long gone before it ever gets to trial," Henry told him. "I got a month, two tops. Who do you think the media will believe? A dead national hero or a man who's made his entire fortune out of hurting others?"

Falcone's smile faltered.

"I think this is one time the house doesn't win," Henry told him without a trace of emotion in his voice. He followed Falcone's gaze as he looked down the hill in the direction of Kris and Kelly and took a half pace towards his blackmailer. "I'm going to make you pay for every bruise you've ever inflicted on anyone. Take a good look around you Falcone; this is the last view of freedom you'll ever have."

"What makes you think you can take me?"

Henry reached round to the back of his waistband and pulled out the gun that he'd holstered there. "You thought so little of me as a threat that you didn't bother to search me." He shook his head. "A careless move Falcone. A very careless move."

Falcone's eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly recovered his composure. "Are you sure you've thought everything through Henry? Are you really sure?"

"Shut up," Henry snapped. "I'm sick and tired of you telling me what to do."

Falcone made to raise his own gun from where it was now pointing at the ground and Henry fired off a round; the ground at Falcone's feet spraying up dirt and gravel as the bullet passed close by.

"Don't give me an excuse to kill you Falcone; I'd enjoy it far too much." Henry gestured with his own gun. "Drop it. Drop it before I drop you."

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind and then the worried tones of the two angels.

"Take the gun from him. It appears he's not the only one who underestimates an old man."

Kelly exchanged a glance with Kris and then stepped forward; keeping a careful eye on Falcone's gun hand. The man had yet to relinquish his hold on the weapon.

"Drop it," Henry repeated, pulling back the hammer on his gun. "or I will shoot."

Falcone looked disgustedly at Henry and then did as he was told. "You may think you've won this round," he spat savagely. "But I wonder if you yet appreciate the true cost."

"No mind games," Henry warned him. "They just won't wash any more."

Kelly stepped between the two men and indicated that Falcone should make his way down towards the cars. "Let's try and be civilised about this."

Falcone smiled. "You have the time on you?"

Kelly's confidence faltered slightly. Falcone was entirely too relaxed for her liking. She glanced at her watch. "It's a little after two."

"Hmmm." Falcone looked down at his feet. "I'm sorry that it ended like this."

"What?" Kelly tried and failed to keep the fear out of her voice. She had a nasty feeling that she knew what Falcone was referring to. "Where is she?"

Falcone shook his head. "I don't know."

Kelly took a pace closer. "Tell us where she is."

The smile on Falcone's face unnerved her.

"I don't know where she is," he replied simply. "I told you that I had an associate looking after your 'friend' for me. We had an arrangement. If I didn't call him by a certain time then he knew to proceed." He paused. "From what you've just told me, my call is now well over an hour overdue."

"What!"

"It's quite simple," Falcone kept his tone even as though he were talking about nothing more important than a missed dentist appointment. "I failed to call at the appointed time and now I have no idea where or in what condition your friend is."

Kris moved forward and snatched Falcone's gun up from where it lay on the dusty ground. She levelled it at him. "I'm not playing here," she warned him.

"I don't doubt your integrity," he told her calmly. "But the matter is out of my hands. You can threaten me all you like, but I can't tell you what I don't know."

Kris' finger tightened around the trigger and moments later Kelly's hand closed over hers.

"He isn't worth it," she told her friend quietly before turning back to face Falcone. "If she dies..."

"Your threat is an empty one. I cannot tell you what I do not know."

"Shut up and move," Kelly barked at him, not trusting herself to say anything further.

"What's going on?" Bosley puffed as he finally caught up with the others. He'd heard the shot and decided that it was time to ignore the plans that they'd drawn up. If there was shooting then he had to see for himself that it wasn't the angels in danger.

He was more than a little surprised to see that it was Falcone standing on the wrong end of a gun. He holstered his own weapon as he sensed the tension in the air. "What's going on?"

* * *

Jarek slowed the car as he neared the phone booth. The arrangement was that he'd wait at the booth for Falcone to call, but he had a nagging feeling that Falcone had underestimated the situation. The last thing he needed was to be led into custody by a couple of women with guns. The car came to a stop and he let the engine idle for a while.

He thought back to Falcone's office and the money and wealth that was to be found within it. With a fraction of that money he could get himself out of the country and live the sort of life that he'd always imagined. The temptation was great. He had a reputation to uphold and running out on his boss was not going to garner him much credit, but the manner of the government agent's death...now that wouldn't do his standing any harm at all. He turned the thought over in his mind...there was always a chance that he'd missed Falcone's call. That would be reason enough for him to cut his losses and leave.

He thought back to the woman that he'd left to die in the container. Perhaps there was a little more fun to be had there. He glanced at his watch...perhaps not. It made no sense to sit around and wait to get caught. He leant forward and popped open the glove box. There was a tatty notebook within and he hastily scrawled a few lines before tearing the page from the book. Climbing from the car he pulled open the door of the booth and folded the paper up; wedging it beneath the earpiece of the receiver.

Looking back at his handiwork he climbed back into the car and gunned the engine, screeching off down the dusty and deserted road.

* * *

"Keep moving." Bosley gestured with the gun he held in his hand and Falcone sighed theatrically before continuing on towards the cars. Bosley had stepped in and taken over as he sensed that the situation was getting out of control. No amount of threats appeared to make a difference to Falcone; he simply kept repeating the same thing over and over again. His hired gun knew where Sabrina was and until he made contact then nothing would change. Bosley shared the feelings of frustration that he knew Kris and Kelly felt, but he understood that they had to play the game. There was a good chance that this was Falcone's last opportunity to be in charge of a situation, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth. He'd made a mistake; misread the situation and the level of control that he had over Sullivan. Bosley shifted the weight of the gun in his hand; he had to be on his guard. There was every chance that Falcone was going to try and make a break for it at some point. He had to remember that keeping an eye on Falcone was more important than anything else. He tried to bury his own fears for Sabrina and concentrate on the task at hand, but he was very aware that they were only just beneath the surface; cold detachment was not his strong point. He glanced at Kelly who was walking next to him and could feel the anger that was radiating off of her.

"You said that you were going to call Lazic," Bosley said as they finally reached the car.

"What of it?"

"What number were you to call?"

Falcone shook his head. "I don't recall."

"You can do better than that," Bosley told him. "My colleagues want to leave you out here, and Mr Sullivan wants to kill you." He smiled winningly. "I'd say that I was your best chance at making it back to civilisation in one piece. I'll ask you again. What was the number you were going to call?"

Falcone reached for his pocket, but Kris quickly knocked his hand away.

"I was reaching for the number," he told her. "You don't imagine that I've memorised the number of every phone booth in the area, do you?"

"Just be careful," she warned him. "That's all."

He shot her a withering look and then made a show of reaching in to his back pocket to pull a folded sheet of paper out. Kris snatched it from his hand impatiently.

"Where is this booth?"

"I have the number. That was all I required. I wasn't planning on paying it a visit."

Kris resisted the urge to slap him and instead reached into the car for the phone. "Operator? I need the location of this phone booth." She turned and glared up at Falcone. "If..."

Falcone raised a hand. "Please. Spare me your indignant rage."

Kris bit back the comment that sprang to her mind and tapped her foot impatiently whilst she waited for the operator to search for the number. Time was running out for her friend; she just hoped that they'd get to her in time.


	38. Chapter 38

_**Well here we are, you and I...the end of the road. Many thanks to those who have read and reviewed; I appreciate the kind words. To those who have lurked, it was good to see you on the traffic count and I hope you enjoyed at least part of the fic. And to everyone...apologies for taking so long to get to the end. It would have been a much tighter plot if I'd stuck to my original plan and finished the fic before posting.**_

* * *

Kelly cast an anxious glance at the fuel gauge and hoped that they were nearing their destination. She'd been driving for twenty minutes and there had been no sign of a gas station. The road had stretched out in front of her and she'd tried to keep her attention fixed on the barren landscape and not think about what they might find at the end of the drive. Kris had managed to get the location of the phone booth from the operator and they'd immediately piled into the cars and set off towards it. Despite Bosley's protests Falcone was travelling with them. She knew that he was concerned about what they might do, but there was no way that they were going to further endanger Sabrina by harming Falcone.

Kris' voice broke the silence. She'd been tracking their progress on a map, and announced that their destination should only be a few hundred metres down the road. Kelly checked the road ahead again, and sure enough, just about visible through the heat haze was the unmistakable profile of a phone booth.

Kelly slowed the car to a halt and pulled on the handbrake. She'd been scanning the road as they'd approached, hoping to see some sign of another driver, but there had been no other traffic on the road. She turned in her seat to face Falcone. "So where is he?"

"I'm his employer, not his keeper. We had a time specified, that has passed. I presume he has left."

"Where would he go?"

"Some place far away from here... if he had any sense."

Kelly bit back the next comment, knowing that Falcone was being deliberately obtuse in an effort to make her angry, and perhaps careless. She took a breath and collected her thoughts, trying to shift the ever growing fear that they were too late and now out of options.

"What's that?"

She looked up as she heard Kris' question. Following the direction her friend was pointing in, she spotted a folded sheet of paper tucked beneath the phone's receiver. She exited the car and snatched up the note, unfolding it and scanning quickly through the contents.

"Get out," she yelled at Falcone.

Kris shook her head, "I don't think so."

"There's no time to explain, Just trust me. I don't want that man with us for the next part of the journey,"

Bosley pulled his station wagon in behind Kelly's Mustang and she was quickly at his window, outlining as briefly as she could the plan that she had just come up with. He opened his mouth to raise some objection, but she quickly shut him down.

"Bos, please. Just do this for me. I promise you that I know what I'm doing."

She turned back to face Falcone, who was unable to disguise his interest in the way that things were developing.

"What's in that note that's got you all hot under the collar."

"That's none of your concern," she snapped back at him.

"On the contrary, I'm sure that it's very much my concern."

"Shut up. I won't tell you again."

Bosley opened the driver's door and climbed from his car, his gun drawn. "I have an offer you can't refuse Falcone. Get in."

Kris watched the exchange with interest, wondering what on earth was going on. She was about to raise the matter with Kelly, when her friend climbed back behind the wheel of the car.

"We don't have much time," she announced tersely before shifting the car into gear and pulling away.

Bosley took a step backwards as the tyres spat gravel in his direction. He glanced at Henry and then Falcone; hoping that one of them would have an answer as to what was going on.

* * *

Kris waited until Kelly had settled the car down to a steady speed. She was way over the limit, but with the straight empty roads surrounding them, Kris reckoned that they were safe enough.

"You want to tell me what's going on, or at the very least where we're going?"

Without speaking, Kelly grabbed the scrap of paper that she'd taken from the phone booth and passed it to Kris.

Kris flattened the sheet out and scanned through it. It purported to be from Lazic. She let out an exclamation of astonishment as she took in what it said.

"Why on earth would he tell us this?"

"I don't know."

"It could be a trap."

"I know. I've thought about that, but I don't think that we can afford to take the chance and play it careful."

"Is that why you didn't want Falcone with us?"

"Partly. If Lazic has set this up to trap us, then I don't want Falcone getting away as well."

Kris glanced through the note again. It amounted to little more than a handful of lines, but it told them exactly where Sabrina was, and gave an indication as to how much time they had to reach her. Kris didn't want to look at her watch; didn't want to know just how close they were to the deadline that Lazic had set. The moment that word entered her thoughts, she wished that she could banish it. Deadline. That's exactly what the time was. If they were late then the consequences were likely to be fatal for Sabrina. She swallowed nervously.

"How much further?"

"Another ten minutes by my reckoning."

The countryside flashed by the windscreen as the car sped on, and Kris just prayed that Lazic wasn't playing some kind of sick joke on them.

* * *

Kelly took the turning too fast and had to fight with the wheel to maintain control of the car. She reluctantly slowed her speed and the car rocked and bumped as they made their way down the disused road towards the old rail yard. The tracks were visible in the distance, but Kelly had no idea if they were still in use or not. The yard had obviously seen better days and the containers that were scattered around were rusting and abandoned. She pulled the car to a halt in front of the old depot building and climbed out; the still arid heat of the day hitting her full in the face. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun and glanced around at the rusting containers, trying to fight the sense of helplessness.

"With the timescale that Lazic gave us, this is going to be impossible," Kris spoke up.

"You can't think like that," Kelly tried to persuade her friend, but she was having the same feeling that they were fighting a battle they couldn't hope to win. "Lazic's been here; there should be evidence of that. Split up; let's cover as much ground as we can."

"What about the office?"

"Leave it." Kelly made the snap decision. "The notice said that she would be almost out of air. That has to mean one of the containers."

Kris turned slowly on her heel, taking in the number of containers that were spread around them. "We can't even be sure that he was telling us the truth. What's to say that this isn't his idea of a sick joke?"

"Don't," Kelly silenced her friend. The same thought had been running through her head ever since she had read the note. She had pushed that thought to the back of her mind, clinging to the hope that she had been given.

"Come on, let's do this."

She made her way over to the first of the containers and studied the area, trying to work out if anyone had been there or not. The note had been brief; telling her little beyond the location and the fact that they were fast running out of time. She didn't want to dwell on why Falcone's hired gun hadn't carried out the job that he'd been tasked with, she just wanted to find out that he'd been telling the truth and that Sabrina was still alive.

"Over here," Kris' voice broke the silence and Kelly glanced in her direction. There was something glinting in the sunlight; something glinting in an area where the ground looked as though it had been recently disturbed. As she watched, Kris sprinted towards it and snatched up a key that had been dropped on the ground.

She offered up a small prayer of thanks and hurried over to where Kris was now trying to open a heavy padlock.

"Come on," Kris' hands were shaking and she fumbled with the key; the grit that coated it preventing it from sliding into the lock. Kelly closed her hands around her friend's and prised the key from it.

"Let me."

She wiped it against the sleeve of her blouse and then slotted it into the padlock.

With a heavy click the padlock dropped open and she swiftly unhooked it and pulled on the heavy metal door.

Kris was at her side in seconds, helping her. It seemed to take an age for the door to open even an inch or two.

They both stepped into the blackness and the stifling close heat; immediately feeling the perspiration pricking their skin.

She heard Kris gasp as her eyes finally became accustomed to the gloom. Sabrina was propped up against the far wall of the container, her head slumped down upon her chest...apparently lifeless.

Kelly pushed past and rushed to her friend's side. "You ok? Sabrina? Sabrina can you hear me?"

Kelly crouched at her side and held her breath; waiting for some response. There was none. "Sabrina?" She wanted to reach out; to press her fingers against her friend's throat and feel the reassuring beat of her heart, but she held back. If she didn't move; if she didn't make the gesture then for a few more moments she could believe that Sabrina was alive.

"Kell?"

Kris' barely audible query made her draw her hands back into fists; she didn't want to find her friend this way. As her eyes grew more accustomed to the gloom she could see that Sabrina was drenched in perspiration; her right wrist handcuffed to a supporting strut.

"Bri...c'mon Bri, don't do this to me." She pleaded with her to respond, but there was nothing. She took a shuddering breath and unclenched her fist; reaching out her right hand to the side of Sabrina's neck. She pressed her fingers against the warm damp skin and prayed to feel the steady thump of a pulse.

"Kelly?" Kris' voice was more desperate now. Kelly closed her eyes and concentrated on the task in hand. There was nothing. She refused to panic and moved her fingers slightly forward.

"Oh my …." her voice dropped away as her emotions got the better of her.

"What is it..."

"Sabrina...Bri...come on," Kelly fought against the tears that pricked her eyes. "Open your eyes, come on."

She heard the cry from Kris and then felt the hand close on her shoulder in relief.

She carefully reached forward and tilted Sabrina's head back, one finger gently prying open her left eye. She almost overbalanced when she heard Sabrina let out a low moan and felt her friend try to pull away.

"Come on Bri...come on."

Kelly held her breath as Sabrina fought to open her eyes. There was no sense of recognition at first, but after a moment or two she seemed to gain focus.

"That's it," Kelly encouraged. "Come on." She ignored the tap on the arm from Kris; her attention fully on her friend, but when Kris persisted she tore her gaze away and saw the bottle of water that was being offered. She took it gratefully and apologised under her breath.

"Come on..." She held the bottle up and Sabrina welcomed the cool refreshing liquid, at first taking small sips and then attempting to gulp it down. Kelly pulled the bottle away; knowing that she should regulate the intake.

She reached out and placed the back of her hand on Sabrina's forehead, wincing as she realised just how high her temperature must be. They needed to get her out of the container; even the heat of the day was cooler than the super-heated temperature of their present location.

She felt Sabrina try and pull away from her hand. "It's ok," she repeated her earlier assurances. "We're going to get you out of here. You just have to give us a little time."

"Kelly?" the voice was faint, but Kelly couldn't help but smile.

"I'm here. We're going to get you out of here. I promise."

She gave Sabrina more of the water, relieved at the effect it seemed to be having. She watched as Sabrina fought to open her eyes again; it was apparent that she was gaining strength.

"Get me out of these," she finally whispered, using all her strength to move her right arm and the cuff that was secured around her wrist.

Kelly exchanged a glance with Kris, hoping that her friend had a key on her.

"I'll call an ambulance." Kris rose to her feet. "And then get hold of Bosley. If he's got a key with him he can bring it here."

Kelly felt a hand tighten on her shoulder and then heard the echoing sound of Kris' footsteps as she exited the container. She turned her attention back to Sabrina, not wanting to tell her that her freedom would have to wait a little while longer. She was somewhat surprised to see that Sabrina was nodding towards a spot on the ground. She watched as her friend struggled to speak.

"At your feet."

She looked first at Sabrina and then down at the place she was trying to indicate with her eyes. There on the dusty floor of the container was a small key. Kelly snatched at it and reached towards Sabrina's wrist. Sabrina had known the key was there, so why hadn't she made an effort to free herself? She tried to push the thought out of her head and concentrated on the lock. It was hard to get a grip on the cuffs and it took a moment or two to realise that the reason for it was that they were coated with her friend's blood. She flinched, pulling away and taking a moment to recover her composure before setting to work again. She wondered just how much damage Sabrina had done to herself. She worked the key in silence and, after what seemed like an age, the cuff clicked open and Sabrina's arm dropped lifelessly down to her side. She reached to help, but Sabrina pulled away.

"You ok?"

Sabrina nodded, but Kelly noticed the way that she was now cradling her left arm against herself. She had a feeling that the dark shadows were hiding further bruising.

"We need to get you out of here and to a hospital," she instructed; relieved when her comment wasn't met with refusal. She paused for a moment. "You need a hand?"

Sabrina bit her lip and then nodded. "Not sure I can stand on my own," she admitted; her voice thick with pain.

Kelly's frown deepened. "Kris has called an ambulance, you want to wait till it's here?"

"Just get me out of here," Sabrina told her faintly.

Kelly hesitated and then glanced back at Kris who had just re-entered the container, uncertain of what to do.

"I'm not a crime scene," Sabrina forced the words out through clenched teeth. "I just need out of here." She closed her eyes and sucked in another breath. "Sooner rather than later would be good."

"Give me your hand." Kelly stepped up and tried to work out the best way to get her upright, encouraged by the way that she now had the strength to form full sentences. "I'll try and make this as quick and painless as possible."

She saw the reluctance that Sabrina had to let her left wrist go. Goosebumps prickled her skin as realisation dawned on her. The scream that she'd heard...the reason that Sabrina had been unable to reach the key on the floor...

She swallowed and tried to push the sickening thought from her head. She glanced again at Kris and the two of them prepared to lift Sabrina to her feet. They moved to either side of her, Kris carefully trying to avoid coming into contact with her friend's swollen wrist.

Sabrina cried out as the sudden movement caused the pain to flare in her ribs and wrist. She closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing so that her ribs would hurt less. She felt the perspiration form on her forehead as she tried to concentrate. Her body was telling her that things weren't right, but she knew that she had to hold it together for just a little while longer.

She felt her friends falter and then lower her back to the floor.

"No," she pushed the word out. "Please."

"I'm sorry," she made out Kelly's voice above the roaring in her ears. "It's too much for you."

"I'll be the..." the words fell away as edges of her vision began to darken. She screwed her eyes shut and then opened and tried to focus. The world swam in front of her and darkness crowded the edges of her field of vision. She clutched at Kelly's arm, trying to make her understand what was happening. She was aware of someone tipping her head back and a cool hand on her forehead. There were words; she thought it was Kelly, but she couldn't be sure and then her whole world lurched again. She bit down hard on her lip as her world shifted beneath her; the pain was unbearable.

She leant heavily on Kelly as she felt herself being moved forward, knowing that she would have difficulty supporting her own weight.

"Let's get you outside."

She made out Kelly's words through the pounding in her ears and did her best to comply as her friends attempted to move her forwards. Each step was agony as her ribs protested at the movement, but she did her best to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The sooner she was away from the place the better. Cool, fresh air was only a matter of steps away... she was not going to give up now.

The sunlight hurt her eyes as she emerged from the container. She was aware that there were others in the vicinity, but she wasn't alert enough to take in who they were; her entire focus was on remaining conscious as she edged painfully forward.

Other hands reached out towards her and she instinctively pulled away.

"It's alright," she heard Kelly's voice through the roaring in her ears. "They're here to take you to hospital."

She opened her mouth to say something but the words just wouldn't come. Her knees buckled and she lost her battle to stay conscious.

* * *

Kelly looked down at the blood that marked her clothing, wondering just how much Sabrina had lost. The ambulance technicians had spoken in encouraging and calming tones, but neither herself or Kris had been permitted to travel in the ambulance. She had stood helplessly by as Sabrina was manoeuvred onto a stretcher and then into the back of one of the idling vehicles.

A technician had briefly stopped at her side, but Kris had been quick to explain where the blood had come from. She reached out for her friend and was pleased that it was swiftly taken.

"Let's get out of here, huh?"

"What if we'd been five minutes later?"

Kris asked the question and Kelly simply squeezed her hand by way of a response. It wasn't something she wanted to dwell on. It had been too close, much too close and the only reason they had found her was thanks to a note left by the man who'd been detailed to let her die. She shuddered and tried to ignore the worry that was nagging away at the back of her mind. Sabrina was alive and that was all that mattered. If anything else followed, then they'd be ready for it... all of them... they were a team afterall.

* * *

Kelly looked at the photograph that had made Henry Sullivan's name. It felt odd to be back in the office, back in familiar surroundings after the events of the past few weeks. She'd not seen Sullivan since the meeting in Ludlow. Bosley had taken care of him, whilst her attention had been fully directed towards Sabrina's well being. She had sat for what felt like a lifetime in the waiting area of the hospital with Kris; no-one there commenting on the blood that marked her clothes. It was a sight that was obviously all too familiar to the staff. Henry had cared about Sabrina, that was obvious. She wondered how he was handling the news of her injuries.

She looked up as she realised that the chatter in the room had died away. Bosley and Kris were looking at her expectantly and she realised that she'd not been paying any attention to them.

"I'm sorry," she apologised. "I was miles away."

"Penny for them," Kris said.

Kelly nodded towards the photograph. "I can't look at it in the same way as before," she admitted. "Knowing what he did...I can't help but wonder just how much that was playing on his mind whilst he was trying to pull his friends from the wreckage."

She looked again and saw the concerned expressions on the faces of Kris and Bosley. She waved away the thought. "I'm sorry, it's nothing... Just over thinking the issue, that's all." She turned her attention back to the squawkbox and waited for Charlie to continue.

"So Henry Sullivan was responsible for the crash at Fort Menzies?" Charlie questioned.

Kelly nodded. "Sullivan and the pilot Gasperino were in over their heads in debt to Jack Falcone and desperate for a way out. Falcone told him that his and Gasperino's debt would be cleared and their families left alone if they helped Falcone get access to the consignment of drugs and illegal merchandise that was due to be flown out of Menzies."

"With Falcone threatening his family he saw no way round the issue," Kris picked up the story. "He rigged the plane so that Gasperino would have to put down at a nearby air field. What he didn't account for was a last minute change of heart by Gasperino and a treacherous weather front."

"So a less experienced pilot took to the skies and failed to cope with the fault the plane presented?"

"The presence of Senator Ward on the flight also meant that the pilot was reluctant to put down at an isolated strip in the middle of nowhere. The senator had offered the pilot money to ensure that he made his connecting flight."

"So there was no CIA conspiracy?" Charlie asked the needless question.

"No conspiracy," Kris confirmed. "Although Falcone made use of Carl Douglas' desire for a Watergate type story to gain information about Sullivan and where he was living. He manipulated Douglas into piling the pressure on Sullivan."

Kelly's expression was one of sadness. "Douglas thought that this story would be the making of him." She glanced around at the others. "What will happen to the truth?"

"A new report will exonerate the pilot of any wrongdoing," Charlie told her. "Finally bring peace of mind to his family."

"...And Henry Sullivan's part in it?"

"That's a little trickier," Charlie admitted. "So much has been built up around him during the years..."

"So Douglas' story is suppressed." There was anger in Kelly's voice. "We're perpetuating a lie!"

"The army doesn't feel that there's anything to be gained by revealing the truth."

"I bet they don't. Can they be certain that the remaining survivors will maintain the silence?"

"Henry Sullivan was admitted to St Mark's Hospice this morning," Charlie told her in a quiet voice. "I don't think his former colleagues will do anything to make his final days any worse."

Kelly fell silent, staring down at her hands. "Does Sabrina know?"

"No. She's got to concentrate on her own recovery at the moment. From what I hear she was lucky you found her when you did."

"And Douglas?"

"His recovery is going to take a lot longer. He's still in intensive care. The police haven't been able to speak to him yet as the doctors are keeping everyone from his door."

"Will he be charged over what happened?" Kelly's voice was hesitant.

"At the moment he is in the position of victim. No-one has put him in the frame for anything."

"He sold Sabrina out," Kris replied hotly, noticing the way that Kelly flinched at her comment. "He handed her to Falcone in exchange for the tape."

"The police don't know that," Kelly turned to face her friend. "Falcone hasn't said anything, and Carl isn't exactly in a position to confirm or deny anything."

"You could say something."

Kelly didn't answer.

"What about the tape?" Kris thought it best to change the subject. "Who left the copy in my car?"

"Gasperino. I'm guessing he was your late night visitor as well. He never left the area. Some of Douglas' notes were recovered and he believed that it was Gasperino who left the flowers at the plinth. Douglas had tried to talk to the man; believing that he was keeping something from him, but the man would never return his calls. The new sheriff is bringing him in for a little chat,"

Kris frowned. "I hope he has words with everyone in the town. It was one of them who sold news to Falcone. There was no other way he could have known I had the tape. I think Gerry Cochran will be getting a knock on his front door. That's one man with more than a few things on his conscience."

"What about Falcone?"

"I think it's safe to say that Mr Falcone will no longer be putting the hard word on anyone. The moment that word got out about his arrest, the station house was inundated with calls from people eager to stick the boot in." Bosley smiled. "That's one rat well and truly off of the streets."

"And Jarek Lazic?" Kelly wanted to know. She watched as the smile fell from Bosley's face. "He's still out there, isn't he?"

"Somewhere. Interpol have flashed his picture at all the major transport hubs, but so far there's not been a sighting of him. Intelligence suggests that he's returned to his former occupation, and so we shouldn't be seeing him on these shores again."

"You want to be the one to tell Sabrina that?" Kris remarked coldly. "I don't think she's going to be happy when she hears the news. The man broke her wrist."

"and ribs... not to mention the psychological torture," Kelly muttered, thinking back to the way he'd left her in the container. "The man needs to be off of the streets."

"I'm sorry angel," Charlie's voice broke into the conversation. "There was nothing that could be done. Knowing his predilection for trouble, I imagine that it's only a matter of time before someone puts him out of business." He paused. "Has there been any word from Sabrina?"

"She signed herself out of the hospital last night. She's going to take a few personal days," Bosley replied. "Told me on the phone that there was someone she needed to see."

"I understand Bosley. Tell her to take all the time that she needs."

"Excuse me!" Kelly broke across the chat. "There's no way she should have been released. Charlie, if you'd seen the state she was in...nurse on duty told me that she expected Bri to be there for at least another week."

"She signed herself out Angel; there was little the staff could do."

Kelly bit back her next comment, knowing that her friend had her own demons to exorcise, but worried that she wasn't in a state to look after herself. "You know she's going to hate it if we make a fuss... but..."

"I know," Bosley spoke up saving Kelly from explaining any further. "I've made a few calls. When she comes back we'll make sure that she gets all the help that she needs."

"You think she'll come back?" Kris asked the question.

"Of course," Bosley replied confidently. "Where else would she go."

* * *

Sabrina let the freshly cut bunch of flowers slip from her hand and watched as they dropped in front of the plain granite stone before her. She'd wanted to place them, but her injuries prevented her from such an action. The walk from the cab had been painful enough and she was trying to ignore the searing ache from her damaged ribs and the angry throb from her wrists. Her eyes took in the handful of words that were so carefully engraved into the stone. She'd read them so many times before, but she looked at them with the same close attention that she'd always shown them. They said so little, but to her they meant everything. It was the last resting place of the person she missed most in the world. That one spot of earth - no matter where life took her – would always be the most important. She closed her eyes and blinked away the tears that were threatening to fall.

"I'm sorry that it's been awhile and sorry that I missed Mother's Day," she began, already feeling more than a little guilty. "There are some people I really should tell you about. I know I should have mentioned this earlier; but ... well, you know me..."


End file.
